PS 

2233 

S6 

1882a 

MAIN 


01190   °f  a   Semite: 


HE    jjANCE  TO    DEATH, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS, 


—  BY-- 


EMMA    LAZARUS, 


AUTHOR  OF  "ADMETUS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS,"  "  ALIDE,"  "TRANSLATIONS 
FROM  HEINE,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK  : 

OFFICE  OF  "THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW," 

498-500  THIRD   AVENUE. 
1882, 


Songs   of  a   Semite: 


THE  DANCE  TO  DEATH, 


AND    OTHER    POEMS, 


—  BY-- 


EMMA    LAZARUS, 

ii 


AUTHOR  OF  "ADMETUS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS,"  "  ALIDE,"  "TRANSLATIONS 
FROM  HEINE,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK : 

OFFICE  OF  "THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW," 

498-500  THIRD   AVENUE. 
1882. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1882, 

BY    EMMA    LAZARUS, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


ALL   RIGHT!  RESERVED. 


In  compliance  with  current  copyright 
law,  U.  C.  Library  Bindery  produced 

this  replacement  volume  on  paper 

that  meets  ANSI  Standard  Z39.48-1992 

to  replace  the  deteriorated, 

damaged,  or  lost  original. 

2004 


A) 


CONTENTS. 


THE  DANCE  TO  DEATH,  a  Tragedy  in  Five  acts,    . 
POEMS: 

The  New  Year       .....  51 

The  Crowing  of  the  Red  Cock 52 

In  Exile 53 

In  Memoriam — Rev.  J.  J.  Lyons        ....  54 

The  Valley  of  Baca .55 

The  Banner  of  the  Jew 56 

Guardian  of  the  Red  Disk 57 

A  TRANSLATION  OF  HEINE  AND  TWO  IMITATIONS: 

Donna  Clara      .......  58 

Don  Pedrillo gl 

Fra  Pedro 63 

TRANSLATIONS    FROM  THE   HEBREW    POETS    OF 
MEDIEVAL  SPAIN: 

SOLOMON  BEN  JUDAH  GABIROL  — 

Night  Thoughts 66 

Meditations    .........  67 

Hymn 68 

To  a  Detractor .  70 

A  Fragment 71 

Stanzas  ..........  71 

Wine  and  Grief          ........  72 

Defiance 72 

A  Degenerate  Age 72 

JUDAH  BEN  HA-LEVI. 

Love  Song 73 

Separation       .........  73 

Longing  for  Jerusalem .  74 

On  the  Voyage  to  Jerusalem.     I 74 

On  the  Voyage  to  Jerusalem,  II          .         ,         .         .         .75 

To  the  West  Wind,  III 76 

MOSES  BEN  ESRA. 

Extracts  from  the  Book  of  Tarshish,  or  the  Necklace  of  Pearls  76 

In  the  Night 78 

From  the  "Divan" 80 

Love  Song  of  Alcharisi 80 


THE  DANCE  TO  DEATH; 


A   HISTORICAL  TRAGEDY 


IN     FIVE    ACTS, 


BY  — 


E1MMA     LAZARUS 


ALL     RIGHTS     RESERVED. 


NEW  YORK: 

"THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW"   PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

498-500  THIRD   AVENUE. 
1882. 


Entered,  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1882, 

BY    EMMA     LAZARUS, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


PHIL.  COWEN,   PRINTER, 
498-500  THIRD  AVE.,      N.  Y. 


THIS      PLAY      IS     DEDICATED, 

IN  PROFOUND  VENERATION  AND  RESPECT 


GEORGE     ELIOT, 

THE   ILLUSTRIOUS   WRITER. 
WHO    DID  MOST     AMONG     THE   ARTISTS     OF    OUR    DAY 

TOWARDS    ELEVATING  AND  ENNOBLING 
THE    SPIRIT    OF    JEWISH    NATIONALITY. 


983051 


THE   PERSONS. 

FREDERICK  THE  GRAVE — Landgrave  of  Thuringia  and  Margrave 
of  Meissen,  Protector  and  Patron  of  the  Free  City  of  Nordhausen. 
PRINCE  WILLIAM  OF  MEISSEN — His  Son. 
SUSSKIND  VON  ORB— A  Jew. 
HENRY  SCHNETZEN— Governor  of  Salza. 
HENRY  NORDMANN  OF  NORDMANNSTEIN— Knight  of  Treffurt. 
REINHARD  PEPPERCORN — Prior  of  Wartburg  Monastery. 
RABBI  JACOB. 

DIETRICH  VON  TETTENBORN — President  of  the  Council. 
REUBEN  vox  ORB- -a boy,  Siisskind's  son. 

BARUCH,       ?  , 
NAPHTALI,    $ 

RABBI  CRESSELIN. 

LAY  BROTHER. 

PAGE. 

PUBLIC  SCRIVENER. 

PRINCESS  MATHILDIS:  Wife  to  Frederick. 

LlEBHAlD  VON   ORB. 

CLAIRE  CRESSELIN. 

Jews,  Jewesses,  Burghers,  Senators,  Flagellants,  Servants,  Guards 
men. 


SCENE: — Partly  in  Nordhausen,  partly  in  Eisenach. 
TIME:— May  4th,  5th,  6th,  i349. 


ACT  I.—  In 

SCENE  I.  A  Street  in  the  Judengasse,  outside  the  Synagogue.  During  this  scene 
Jews  and  Jewesses,  singly  and  in  groups,  with  prayer-books  in  their  hands 
pass  across  the  stage  and  go  into  the  Synagogue.  Among  them,  enter  BARUCH 
and  NAPHTALI. 

NAPHTALI.     Hast  seen  him  yet? 

BARUCH.  Nay:  Rabbi  Jacob's  door 

Swung  to  behind  him,  just  as  I  puffed  up 
O'erblown  with  haste.     See  how  our  years  weigh,  cousin. 
Who'd  judge  me  with  this  paunch  a  temperate  man, 
A  man  of  modest  means,  a  man  withal 
Scarce  overpast  his  prime?     Well,  God  be   praised, 
If  age  bring  no  worse  burden!     Who  is  this  stranger? 
Simon  the  Leech  tells  me  he  claims  to  bear 
Some  special  message  from  the  Lord — no  doubt 
To-morrow,  fresh  from  rest,  he'll  publish  it 
Within  the  Synagogue 

NAPHTALI.  To-morrow,  man? 

He  will  not  hear  of  rest — he  comes  anon — 
Shall  we  within? 

BARUCH.  Rather  let's  wait, 

And  .scrutinize  him  as  he  mounts  the  street. 
Since  you  denote  him  so  remarkable, 
You've  whetted  my  desire. 

NAPHTALI.  A  blind,  old  man, 

Mayhap  is  all  you'll  find  him — spent  with  travel. 
His  raiment  fouled  with  dust,  his  sandaled  feet 
Road-bruised  by  stone  and.  bramble.     But  his  face! — 
Majestic  with  long  fall  of  cloud-white  beard, 
And  hoary  wreath  of  hair — oh,  it  is  one 
Already  kissed  by  angels. 

BARUCH.  Look,  there  limps 

Little  Manasseh,  bloated  as  his  purse, 
And  wrinkled  as  a  frost-pinched  fruit.     I  hear 
His  last  loan  to  the  Syndic  will  result 
In  quadrupling  his  wealth.     Good  Lord!   what  luck 
Blesses  some  folk,  while  good  men  stint  and  sweat 
And  scrape,  to  merely  fill  the  household  larder. 
What  said  you  of  this  pilgrim,  Naphtali? 


These  inequalities  of  fortune  rub 

My  sense  of  justice  so  against  the  grain, 

I    ose  my  very  name.     Whence  does  he  come? 

Is  he  alone? 

NAPHTALI,          He  comes  from  Chinon, France, 
Rabbi  Cresselin  he  calls  himself— alone 
Save  foi  hii  daug,hte.r  who  has  led  him  hither. 
A  beautiful,  pale  "girl  with  round  black  eyes. 

BARUCH.     Bring  they  fresh  tidings  of  the  pestilence? 

NAPHTALI.  V  iknWOat— but  I  learn  from  other  source 
It  has  burst  forth' at  Erfurt. 

BARUCH.  God  have  mercy! 

Have  many  of  our  tribe  been  stricken? 

NAPHTALI.  No. 

They  cleanse  their  homes  and  keep  their  bodies  sweet, 
Nor  cease  from  prayer — and  so  does  Jacob's  God 
Protect  His  chosen,  still.     Yet  even    His  favor 
Our  enemies,  would  twist  into  a  curse. 
Beholding  the  destroying  angel  srnite 
The  foul  idolater  and  leave  unscathed 
The  gates  of  Israel— the  old  cry  they  raise — 
We  have  begotten  the  Black  Death — we  poison 
The  well-springs  of  the  towns. 

BARUCH.        God  pity  us! 
But  truly  are  we  blessed   in  Nordhausen. 
Such  terrors  seem  remote  as  Egypt's  plagues. 
I  warrant  you  our  Landgrave  dare  not  harry 
Such  creditors  as  we.      See,  here  comes  one, 
The  greatest  and  most  liberal  of  them  all — 
Slisskind  von  Orb. 

(SUSSKIND  VON  ORB,  LIEBHAID  and  REUBEN  enter,  all  pass  across  the  stage,  and 
disappear  within  the  Synagogue.) 

I'd  barter  my  whole  fortune, 

And  yours  to  boot,  that's  thrice  the  bulk  of  mine, 
For  half  the  bonds   he  holds  in  Frederick's  name. 
The  richest  merchant  in  Thuringia,  he — 
The  poise  of  his  head  would  tell  it,  knew  we  not. 
How  has  his  daughter  leaped  to  womanhood! 
I  mind  when  she  came  toddling  by  his  hand, 
But  yesterday— -a.  flax-haired  child — to-day 
Her  brow  is  level  with  his  pompous  chin. 

NAPHTALI.          How  fair  she  is!     Her  hair  has  kept  its  gold 
Untarnished  still.      I  trace  not  either  parent 
In  her  face,  clean  cut  as  a  gem. 

BARUCH.          Her  mother 
Was  far-off  kin  to  me,  and  I  might  pass, 
I'm  told,  unguessed  in  Christian  garb.      I  know 
A  pretty  secret  of  that  scornful  face. 


It  lures  high  game  to  Nordhausen. 

NAPHTALI.  Baruch, 

I  marvel  at  your  prompt  credulity. 
The  Prince  of  Meissen  and  Liebhaid  von  Orb! 
A  jest  for  gossips  and— Look,  look,  he  comes! 

BARUCH.  Who's  that,  the  Prince? 

NAPHTALI.  Nay,  dullard,  the  old  man, 

The  Rabbi  of  Chinon.     Ah!  his  stout  staff, 
And  that  brave  creature's  strong  young  hand  suffice 
Scarcely  to  keep  erect  his  tottering  frame. 
Emaciate-lipped.with  cavernous  black  eyes 
Whose  inward  visions  do  eclipse  the  day, 
Seems  he  not  one  re-risen  from  the  grave 
'To  yield  the  secret? 

(Enter  RABBI  JACOB,  and  RABBI  CRESS ELIN  led  by  CLAIRE.    They  walk  across 
the  stage,  and  disappear  in  the  Synagogue.) 

BARUCH.     (Exaltedly.)     Blessed  art  thou,  O  Lord, 

Kine  of  the  Universe,  who  teachest  wisdom 

To  those  who  fear  thee!* 

NAPHTALT.  Haste  we  in.     The  star 

Of  Sabbath  dawns. 

BARUCH.  My  flesh  is  still  a-creep 

From  the  strange  gaze  of  those  wide-rolling  orbs, 

Didst  note,  man,  how  they  fixed  me?     His  Jean  cheeks, 

As  wan  as  wax,  were  bloodless;  now  his  arms 

Stretched  far  beyond  the  flowing  sleeve  and  showed 

Gaunt,  palsied  wrists,  and  hands  blue-tipped  with  death! 

Well,  I  have  seen  a  sage  of  Israel. 

(They  enter  the  Synagogue.     Scene  closes.) 

SCENE  IF.  The  Synagogue  crowded  with  worshipers.  Among  the  women  in  the 
Gallery  are  discovered  LIEBHAID  VON  ORB  and  CLAIRE  CRESSELIN.  Below, 
among  the  men,  SUSSKIND  vox  ORB  and  REUBEN.  At  the  Reader's  Desk,  RABBI 
JACOB.  Fronting  the  audience  under  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  stands  a  high  desk, 
behind  which  is  seen  the  white  head  of  an  old  man  bowed  in  prayer.  BARUCH  and 
NAPHTALI  enter  and  take  their  seats. 

BARUCH.  Think  you  he  speaks  before  the  service? 

NAPHTALI.  Yea. 

Lo,  phantom-like  the  towering  patriarch! 

(RABBI  CRESSELIN  slowly  rises  beneath  the  Ark.) 

RABBI  CRESSELIN.  Woe  unto  Israel!  woe  unto  all 

Abiding 'mid  strange  peoples!     Ye  shall  be         ~) 
Cut  off  from  that  land  where  ye  made  your  homtJ 
I,  Cresselin  of  Chinon,  have  traveled  far, 
Thence  where  my  fathers  dwelt,  to  warn  my  race, 
For  whom  the  fire  and  stake  have  been  prepared. 
Our  brethren  of  Verdun,  all  over  France, 

*  These  words  are  the  customary  formula  of  Jewish  prayer  on  seeing  a  wise  man 
of  Israel. 


Are  burned  aliyejie*e.ath  the  Goyi;ns  torch. 

What  terrors  have  I  witnessed,  ere  my  sight 

Was  mercifully  quenched!     In  Gascony, 

In  Savoy,  Piedmont,  round  the  garden  shores 

Of  tranquil  Leman,  down  the  beautiful  Rhine, 

At  Lindau,  Costnitz,  Schafthausen,  St.  Gallen, 

Everywhere  torture,  smoking  Synagogues, 

Carnage  and    burning  flesh.      The  lights  shine  out 

Of  Jewish  virtue,  Jewish  truth,  to  star 

The  sanguine  field  with  an  immortal  blazon, 

The  venerable  Mar-Isaac    in  Cologne, 

Sat  in  his  house  at  prayer,  nor  lifted   lid 

From  off  the  sacred  text,  while  all  around 

The  fanatics  ran  riot;  him  they  seized 

Haled  through  the  streets,  with  prod  of  stick  and  spike 

Fretted  his  wrinkled  flesh,  plucked  his  white  beard, 

Dragged  him  with  gibes  into  their  Church,  and  held 

A  Crucifix  before  h;m.      '•  Know   thy  Lord!" 

He  spat  thereon;  he  was  pulled  limb  from  limb. 

I  saw—  God.  that  I  might  forget! — a  man 

Leap  in  the  Loire,  with  his  fair,  stalwart  son, 

A-bloom  with  youth,  and  midst  the  stream  unsheathe 

A  poniard,  sheathing  it  in  his  boy's  heart, 

While  he  pronounced  the  blessing  for  the  dead. 

"  Amen!"  the  lad  responded  as  he  sank, 

And  the  white  water  darkened  as  with  wine. 

I  Saw — but  no!  You  are  glutted,  and  my  tongue 

Blistered,  refuseth  to  narrate  more  woe. 

1  have  known  much  sorrow.      When  it  pleased  the  Lord 

To  afflict  us  with  the  horde    of  Pastoureaux, 

The  rabble  of  armed  herdsmen,  peasants,  slaves, 

Men-beasts  of  burden-  coarse  as  the  earth  they  tilled, 

Who  like  an  inundation  deluged   Frande 

To  drown  our  race— my  heart  held  firm,  my  faith  - 

Shook  not  upon  her  rock   until  I  saw 

Smit  by  God's  beam,  the  big,  black  cloud  dissolve. 

Then  followed  with  their  scythes,  spades,  clubs  and  banners 

Flaunting  the  Cross,  the  hosts  of  Armleder, 

From  whose  fierce  wounds  we  scarce  are  healed  to-day. 

Yet  do  I  say  the  cup  of  bitterness 

That  Israel  has  drained  is  but  a  draught 

Of  cordial,  to  the  cup  that  is  prepared. 

The  Black  Death  and  the  Brothers  of  the  Cross, 

These  are  our  foes — and  these  are  everywhere. 

I  who  am  blind,  see  ruin  in  their  wake. 

Ye  who  have  eyes  and  limbs,  arise  and  flee! 

To-morrow  the  Flagellants  will  be  here. 

God's   angel   visited  my  sleep  and  spake. 


"  Thy  Jewish  kin  in  the  Thuringian  town 

Of  Nordhausen,  shall  be  swept  off  from  earth, 

Their  elders  and  their  babes  —consumed  with  fire. 

Go,  summon  Israel  to  ,  flight — take  this 

As  sign  that  I,  who  call    thee.  am  the  Lord, 

Thine  eyes  shalt  be  struck  blind  till  thou  hast  spoken." 

Then  darkness  fell  upon  rny  mortal  sense, 

But  light  broke  o'er  my  soul,  and  all  was  clear, 

And  I  have  journeyed  hither  with  my  child 

O'er  mount  and  river,  till  1  have  announced 

The  message  of  the  Everlasting  God. 

(Sensation  in  the  Synagogue.) 

RABBI  JACOB.     Father,  have  mercy!  when  wilt  thou  have  done 
With  rod  and  scourge?     Beneath  thy  children's  feet 
Earth  splits,  fire  springs.     No  rest,  no  rest,  no  rest! 

A  VOICE.     Look  to  the  women!  Mariamne  swoons! 

ANOTHER  VOICE.     Woe  unto  us  who  sinned! 

ANOTHER  VOJCE.  We're  all  dead  men. 

Fly,  fly  ere  dawn  as  our  forefathers  fled 
From  out  the  land  of  Egypt. 

BARUCH.  Are  ye  mad? 

Shall  we  desert  snug  homes?  forego  the  sum 
Scraped  through  laborious  years  to  smooth  life's  slope, 
And  die  like  dogs  unkenneled  and  untombed, 
At  bidding  of  a  sorrow-crazed  old  man? 

A  VOK:E.      He  flouts  the  Lord's  anointed!     Cast  him  forth! 

SUSSKIND  VON  Oi<B.     Peace,  brethren,  peace!  If  I  have  ever  served 
Israel  with  purse,  arm,  brain  or  heart — now  hear  me! 
May  God  instruct  my  speech!     This  wise  old  man, 
Whose  brow  flames  with  the  majesty  of  truth, 
May  be  part-blinded  through  excess  of  light, 
As  one  who  eyes  too  long  the  naked  sun, 
Setting  in  rayless  glory,  turns  and  finds 
Outlines  confused,  familiar  colors  changed, 
All  objects  branded  with  one  bipod-bright  spot. 
Nor  chafe  at  Baruch's  homely  sense;  truth  floats 
Midway  between  the  stars  and  the  abyss. 
We,  bv  God's  grace,  have  .found  a  special  nest 
I'  the  dangerous  rock,  screened  against  wind  and  hawk; 
Free  burghers  of  a  free  town,  blessed   moreover 
With  the  peculiar  favor  of  the  Prince, 
Frederick  the  Grave,  our  patron  and  protector. 
What  shall  we  fear?     Rather,  where  shall  we  seek 
Secure  asylum,  if  here  be  not  one? 
Fly?     Our  forefathers  had  the  wilderness, 
The  sea  their  gateway,  and  the  fire-cored  cloud 
Their  divine  guide.      Us,  hedged  by  ambushed  foes, 
No  frank,  free,  kindly  desert  shall  receive. 


1U 

Death  crouches  on  all  sides,  prepared  to  leap 

Tiger-like  on  our  throats,  when  first  we  step 

From  this  safe  covert.     Everywhere  the  Plague! 

As  nigh  as  Erfurt  it  has  crawled— the  towns 

Reek  with  miasma,  therank  fields  of  spring,    . 

Rain-saturated,  are  one  beautiful — lie, 

Smiling  profuse  life,  and  secreting  death. 

Strange  how,  unbidden,  a  trivial  memory 

Thrusts  itself  on  my  mind  in  this  grave  hour. 

I  saw  a  large  white  bull  urged  through  the  town 

To  slaughter,  by  a  stripling  with  a  goad, 

Whom  but  one  sure  stamp  of  that  solid  heel, 

One  toss  of  those  mooned  horns,  one  battering  blow 

Of  that  square  marble  foreheid,  would  have  crushed, 

As  we  might  crush  a  worm,  yet  on  he  trudged. 

Patient,  in  powerful  health  to  death.     At  once, 

As  though  o'  the  sudden  stung,  he  roared  aloud, 

Beat  with  fierce  hoofs  the  air,  shook  desperately 

His  formidable  head,  and  heifer-swift, 

Raced  through  scared,  screaming  streets.     Well,  and  the  end? 

He  was  the  promptlier  bound  and  killed  and  quartered. 

The  world  belongs  to  man;  dreams  the  poor  brute 

Some  nook  has  been  apportioned  for  brute  life? 

Where  snail  a  man  escape  men's  cruelty? 

Where  shall  God's  servant  cower  from  his  doom? 

Let  us  bide,  brethren — we  are  in  His  hand. 

RABBI  CRESSELIN.     (Uttering  a  piercing  shriek.}   Ah! 
Woe  unto  Israel!     Lo,  I  see  again. 
As  the  Ineffable  foretold.      I  see 
A  flood  of  fire  that  streams  towards  the  town. 
Look,  the  destroying  Angel  with  the  sword, 
Wherefrom  the  drops  of  gall  are  raining  down, 
Broad-winged,  comes,  flying  towards  you.      Now  he  draws 
His  lightning-glittering  blade!    With  the  keen  edge 
He  smiteth  Israel— ah! 

(He  falls  back  dead.     Confusion  in  the  Synagogue.) 

CLAIRE.     (From  the  Gallery.')     Father!     My  father! 
Let  me  go  down  to  him! 

LlEBHAID      Sweet  girl,  be  patient. 
This  is  the  House  of  God,  and  He  hath  entered. 
Bow  we  and  pray. 

Meanwhile,   some  of  the  men   surround  and  raiss  from  the  ground  the  body   of 
RABBI  CRESS EL!N.     Several  voices  speaking  at  once. 

1ST  VOICE.  He's  doomed. 

2D  VOICE.  Dead!     Dead! 

3D  VOICE.  A  judgment! 

4TH  VOICE.     Make  way  there!     Air!  Carry  him  forth!  He's  wa*m! 

3D  VOICE.     Nay,  his  heart's  stopped— his  breath  has  ceased— quite 
dead. 


li 

5TH  VOICE.    Didst  mark  a  diamond  lance  flash  from  the  roof? 
And  strike  him  'twixt  the  eyes? 

1ST  VOICE.  Our  days  are  numbered. 

This  is  the  token. 

RABBI  JACOB.  Lift  the  corpse  and  pray. 

Shall  we  neglect  God's  due  observances, 
While  He  is  manifest  in  miracle? 
I  saw  a  blaze  seven  times  more  bright  than  fire, 
Crest,  halo-wise,  the  patriarch's  white  head. 
The  dazzle  stung  my  burning  lids — they  closed, 
One  instant — when  they  oped,  the  great  blank  cloud 
Had  settled  on  his  countenance  forever. 
*  Departed  brother,  mayest  thou  find  the  gates 
Of  heaven  open,  see  the  city  of  peace, 
And  meet  the  ministering  angels,  glad,  . 
Hastening  towards  thee!     May  the  High  Priest  stand 
To  greet  and  bless  thee!  '  Go  thou  to  the  end! 
Repose  in  peace  and  rise  again  to  life. 
No  more  thy  sun  sets,  neither  wanes  thy  moon. 
The  Lord  shall  be  thy  everlasting  light; 
Thy  days  of  mourning  shall  be  at  an  end. 
For  you,  my  flock,  fear  nothing;  it  is  writ 
As  one  his  mother  comforteth,  so  I 
Will  comfort  you    and  in  Jerusalem 
Ye  shall  be  comforted.  Scene  closes. 

SCENE    III.     Evening      A    crooked    byway  in    the  Judengasse.      Enter  PRINCE 
WILLIAM. 

PRINCE  W.     Cursed  be  these  twisted  lanes!    I  have  missed  the  clue 
Of  the  close  labyrinth.     Nowhere  in  sight, 
Just  when  I  lack  it,  a  stray  gaberdine 
To  pick  me  up  my  thread.     Yet  when  I  haste 
Through  these  blind  streets,  unwishful  to  be  spied, 
Some  dozen  hawk-eyes  peering  o'er  crook'd  beaks 
Leer  recognition,  and  obsequious  caps 
Do  kiss  the  stones  to  greet  my  princeship.     Bah! 
Strange,  midst  such  refuse  sleeps  so  white  a  pearl. 
At  last,  here  shuffles  one.      (Enter  a  Jew.} 
Give  you  good  even! 

Sir,  can  you  help  me  to  the  nighest  way 
Unto  the  merchant's  house,  Siisskind  von  Orb? 

JEW.     Whence  come  you  knowing  not  the  high  brick  wall, 
Without,  blank  as  my  palm,  o'  the  inner  side, 
Muring  a  palace?     But  — do  you  wish  him  well? 
He  is  my  friend — we  must  be  wary,  wary, 
We  all  have  warning — Oh,  the  terror  of  it! 

*  From  this  point  to  the  end  of  the  scene  is  a  literal  translation  of  the  Hebrew 
burial  service. 


12         . 

I  have  not  ytt  my  wits! 

PRINCE  W.  I  am  his  friend. 

Is  he  in  peril?     What's  the  matter,  man? 

JEW.  Peril?   His  peril  is  no  worse  than  mine, 

But  the  rich  win  compassion.  God  is  just, 
And  every  man  of  us  is  doomed.  Alack! 
He  said  it— oh  those  wild,  white  eyes! 

PRINCE  W.  I  pray  you, 

Tell  me  the  way  to  Sus.skind's  home. 

JEW.  Sweet  master, 

You  look  the  perfect  knight,  what  can  you  crave 
Of  us  starved,  wretched  Jews?     Leave  us  in  peace. 
The  Judengasse  gates  will  shut  anon, 
Nor  ope  till  morn  again  for  Jew  or  Gentile. 

PRINCE  W.      Here's  gold.     I  am  the  Prince  of  Meissen — speak! 

JEW.     Oh  pardon!     Let  me  kiss  your  mantle's  edge. 
This  way.  great  sir,  I  lead  you  there  myself, 
If  you  deign  follow  one  so  poor,  so  humble. 
You  must  show  mercy  in  the  name  of  God, 
For  verily  are    we  afflicted.     Come. 
Hard  by  is  Siisskind's  dwelling— as  we  walk 
By  your  good  leave  I'll  tell  what  I  have  seen. 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE  IV.  A  luxuriously-furnished  apartment  in  Susskind  von  Orb's  house.  Upon  a 
richly-spread  supper  table  stands  the  seven-branched  silver  candlestick  of  the  Sab 
bath  eve.  At  the  table  are  seated  SUSSKIND  VON  ORB,  LIEBHAID  and  REUBEN. 

SUSSKIND.     Drink,  children,   drink!  and  lift  your  hearts  to  Him 
Who  gives  us  the  vine's  fruit.      (  They  drink.) 

How  clear  it  glows; 

Like  gold  within  the  golden  bowl,  like  fire 
Along  our  veins,  after  the  work-day  week 
Rekindling  Sabbath-fervor,  Sabbath-strength. 
Verily  God  prepares  for  me  a  table 
In  presence  of  mine  enemies!      He  anoints 
>   My  head  with  oil,  my  cup  is  overflowing. 
Praise  we  His  name!      Hast  thou,  my  daughter,  served 
The  needs  o'  the  poor,  suddenly-orphaned  child? 
Naught  must  she  lack  beneath  my  roof. 

LIEBHAID.  Yea,  father. 

She  prays  and  weeps  within:  she  had  no  heart 
For  Sabbath  meal,  but  charged  me  with  her  thanks — 

SUSSKIND.     Thou  shall  be  mother  and  sister  in  one  to  her. 
Speak  to  her  comfortably. 

ReUBKN.  She  has  begged 

A  grace  of  me    I  happily  can  grant: 
After  our  evening-prayer,  to  lead  her  back 
Unto  the  synagogue,  where  sleeps  her  father, 
A  light  at  head  and  foot,  o'erwatched  by  strangers; 


13 

She  would  hold  vigil. 

SUSSKIND.  Tis  a  pious  wish, 

Not  to  be  crossed,  befitting  Israel's  daughter. 
Go,  Reuben;  heavily  the  moments  hang, 
While  her  heart  yearns  to  break  beside  his  corpse. 
Receive  my  blessing.     (He  places  his   hands  upon  his  son's  head  in 
benediction.     Exit  Reuben.} 

Henceforth  her  home  is  here. 
In  the  event  to-night,  God's  finger  points 
Visibly  out  of  heaven.     A  thick  cloud 
Befogs  the  future.     But  just  here  is  light 

(Enter  a  servant  ushering  in  Prince  William.) 

SERVANT.     His  highness  Prince  of  Meissen.     (Exit.} 

SUSSKIND  Welcome,   Prince! 

God  bless  thy  going  forth  and  coming  in! 
Sit  at  our  table  and  accept  the  cup 
Of  welcome  which  my  daughter  fills. 

(Liebhaid  offers  him  wine.) 

PRINCE  W.  (drinking.}  To  thee!  (All  take  their  seats  at  the  table.) 
I  heard  disquieting  news  as  I  came  hither.. 
The  apparition  in  the  Synagogue, 
The  miracle  of  the  message  and  the  death. 
Susskind  von  Orb,  what  think'st  thou  of  these  things? 

SUSSKIND.      1  think,  sir,  we  are  in  the  hand  of  God, 
I  trust  the  Prince — your  father  and  my  friend. 

PRINCE  W.     Trust  no  man!  flee!    I  have  not  come  to-night 
To  little  purpose.     Your  arch  enemy 
The  Governor  of  Salza,  Henry  Schnetzen, 
Has  won  my  father's  ear.     Since  yestereve 
He  stops  at  Eisenach,  begging  of  the  Prince 
The  Jews'  destruction. 

SUSSKIND.   (calmly.}      Schnetzen  is  my  foe, 
I  know  it,  but  I  know  a  talisman, 
Which  'at  a  word  transmutes  his  hate  to  love. 
Liebhaid.  my  child,  look  cheerly.      What  is  this? 
Harm  dare  not  touch  thee;  the   oppressor's  curse, 
Melts  into  blessing  at  thy  sight. 

LIEBHAID.  Not  fear 

Plucks  at  my  heart-strings,  father,  though  the  air 
Thickens  with  portents;  'tis  the  thought  of  flight, 
But  no — I  follow  thee. 

PRINCE  W.  Thou  shalt  not  miss 

The  value  of  a  hair  from  thy  home- treasures. 
All  that  thou  lovest,  Liebhaid,  goes  with  thee, 
Knowest  thou,  Susskind,  Schnetzen's  cause  of  hate? 

SUSSKIND.     Tis  rooted  in  an  ancient  error,  born 
During  his  feud  with  Landgrave  Fritz  the   Bitten, 
Your  Highness'  grandsire— ten  years— twenty— back. 


I 


M^-^h^f^f^:^^;:-^-^'^'': 


14        • 

Misled  to  think  I  had  betrayed  his  castle, 

Who  knew  the  secret  tunnel  to  its  courts, 

He  has  nursed  a  baseless  grudge,  whereat  I  smile, 

Sure  to  disarm  him  by  the  simple  truth. 

God  grant  me  strength  to  utter  it. 

PRINCE  W.  You  fancy 

The  rancor  of  a  bad  heart  slow  distilled 
Through  venomed  years,  so  at  a  breath,  dissolves. 
Ogood  old  man.  i'  the  world,  not  of  the  world! 
Belike,  himself  forgets  the  doubtful  core 
Of  this  still-curdling,  petrifying  ooze. 
Truth?  why  truth  glances  from  the,  callous  mass, 
A  spear  against  a  rock.     He  hugs  his  hate, 
His  bed-fellow,  his  daily,  life-long  comrade; 
Think  you  he  has  slept,  ate,  drank  with  it  this  while, 
Now  to  forego  revenge  on  such  slight  cause 
As  the  revealed  truth? 

SUSSKIND.  You  mistake  my  thought, 

Great-hearted  Prince,  and  justly — for  I  speak 
In  riddles,  till  God's  time  to  make  all  clear. 
When  His  day  dawns,  the  blind  shall  see. 

PRINCE  W.  Forgive  me, 

If  I,  in  wit  and  virtue  your  disciple, 
Seem  to  instruct  my  master.     Accident 
Lifts  me  where  I  survey  a  broader  field 
Than  wise  men  stationed  lower.      I  spy  peril, 
Fierce  flame  invisible  from  the  lesser  peaks. 
God's  time  is  now.     Delayed  truth  leaves  a  lie 
Triumphant.     If  you  harbor  any  secret, 
Potent  to  force  an  ear  that's  locked  to  mercy, 
In  God's  name,  now  disbosom  it. 

SUSSKIND.  Kind  heaven! 

Would  that  my  people's  safety  were  assured 
So  is  my  child's!     Where  shall  we  turn?     Where  flee? 
For  all  around  us  the  Black  Angel  broods. 
We  step  into  the  open  jaws  of  death 
If  we  go  hence. 

PRINCE  W.  Better  to  fall  beneath 

The  hand  of  God,  than  be  cut  off  by  man. 

SUSSKIND.     We  are  trapped,  the  springe  is  set.     Not  ignorantly  ' 
I  offered  counsel  in  the  synagogue, 
Quelled  panic  with  authoritative  calm, 
But  knowing,  having  weighed  the  opposing  risks. 
Our  friends  in  Strasburg  have  been  overmastered, 
The  imperial  voice  is  drowned,  the  papal  arm 
Drops  paralyzed— both,  lifted  for  the  truth; 
We  can  but  front  with  brave  eyes,  brow  erect 
As  is  our  wont,  the  fulness  of  our  doom. 


15 

PRINCE  W.    Then  Meissen's  sword  champions  your  desperate  cause. 
I  take  my  stand  here  where  my  heart  is  fixed. 
I  love  your  daughter— if  her  love  consent, 
I  pray  you,  give  me  her  to  wife. 

LlEBHAID.  Ah! 

SUSSKIND.  Prince, 

Let  not  this  Saxon  skin,  this  hair's  gold  fleece, 
These  Rhine-blue  eyes  mislead  thee — she  is  alien. 
To  the  heart's  core  a  Jewess — prop  of  my  house, 
Soul  of  my  soul — and  I?  a  despised  Jew. 

PRINCE  W.     Thy  propped  house  crumbles;  let  my  arm  sustain 
Its  tottering  base — thy  light  is  on  the  wane 
Let  me  re-lumejt.     Give  thy  star  to  me, 
Or  ever  pitch-black  night  engulf  us  all — 
Lend  me  your  voice,  Liebhaid,  entreat  for  me. 
Shall  this  prayer  be  your  first  that  he  denies? 

LlEBHAID.     Father,  my  heart's  desire  is  one  with  his. 

SUSSKIND.     Is  this  the  will  of  God?     Amen!    My  children, 
Be  patient  with  me,  I  am  full  of  trouble. 
For  you,  heroic  Prince,  could  aught  enhance, 
Your  love's  incomparable  nobility, 
'Twere  the  foreboding  horror  of  this  hour, 
Wherein  you  dare  flash  forth  its  lightning-sword. 
You  reckon  not,  in  the  hot,  splendid  moment 
Of  great  resolve,  the  cold  insidious  breath 
Wherewith  the  outer  world  shall  blast  and  freeze — 
But  hark!     I  own  a  mystic  amulet, 
Which  you  delivering  to  your  gracious  father, 
Shall  calm  his  rage  withal,  and  change  his  scorn 
Of  the  Jew's  daughter,  into  pure  affection. 
I  will  go  fetch  it — though  I  drain  my  heart 
Of.  its  red  blood,  to  yield  this  sacrifice. 

(Exit  Susskind.) 

PRINCE  W.     Have  you  no  smile  to  welcome  love  with,  Liebhaid? 
Why  should  you  tremble? 

LlEBHAID.  Prince,  I  am  afraid! 

Afraid  of  my  own  heart,  my  unfathomed  joy, 
A  blasphemy  against  my  father's  grief, 
My  people's  agony.      I  dare  be  happy — 
So  happy!  in  the  instant's  lull  betwixt 
The  dazzle  and  the  crash  of  doom. 

PRINCE  W.  You  read 

The  omen  falsely;  rather  is  your  joy 
The  thrilling  harbinger  of  general  dawn. 
Did  you  not  tell  me  scarce  a  month  agone. 
When  I  chanced  in  on  you  at  feast  and  prayer, 


J6 

The  holy  time's  bright  legend?    of  the  queen, 

Strong,  beautiful,  resolute,  who  denied  her  race 

To  save  her  race,  who  cast  upon  the  die 

Of  her  divine  and  simple  loveliness, 

Her  life,  her  soul,— and  so  redeemed  her  tribe. 

You  are  my  Esther— but  I,  no  second  tyrant. 

Worship  whom  you  adore,  love  whom  you  love! 

LlEBHAID.    If  I  must  die  with  morn,  I  thank  my  God. 
And  thee,  my  king,  that  I  have  lived  this  night. 

(Enter  Susskind  carrying  a  jeweled  casket.) 

SUSSKIND.      Here  is  the  chest,  sealed  with  my  signet-ring, 
A  mystery  and  a  treasure  lies  within, 
Whose  worth  is  faintly  symboled  by  these  gems, 
Starring  the  case.      Deliver  it  unopened, 
Unto  the  Landgrave.     Now,  sweet  Prince,  goodnight. 
Else  will  the  Judengasse  gates  be  closed. 

PRINCE  W.    Thanks,  father,  thanks.      Liebhaid,  my 
bride,  goodnight. 

(He  kisses  her  brow.     Susskind  places  his  hands  on  the  heads  of  Liebhaid  and 
Prince  William.) 

SUSSKIND.      Blessed,  Oh  Lord,  art  thou,  who  bringest  joy  . 
Tt>  bride  and  bridegroom.      Let  us  thank  the  Lord. 

(Curtain  fall^.) 
END   OF    ACT  I. 

A  CT  1 1 .  —A  t  Eisenach . 
SCENE  I.  A  Room  in  the  Landgrave's  Palace.  FREDERICK  THE  GRAVE  and  HENRY 

SCHNETZEN. 

LANDGRAVE.      Who  tells  thee  of  my  son's  love  for  the  Jewess? 

SCHNETZEN.      Who  tells  me?     Ask  the  Judengasse  walls, 
The  garrulous  stones  publish  Prince  William's  visits 
To  his  fair  mistress. 

LANDGRAVE.     Mistress?  ah,  such  sins 
The  Provost  of  St.  George's  will  remit 
For  half  a  pound  of  coppers. 

SCHNETZEN.    Think  it  not! 
No  light  amour  this,  leaving  shield  unflecked; 
He  woos  the  Jewish  damsel  as  a  knight 
The  lady  of  his  heart. 

LANDGRAVE.     Impossible! 

SCHNETZEN.     Things  more  impos>ible  have  chanced.     Remember 
Count  Gleichen.  doubly  wived,  who  pined  in  Egypt, 
There  wed  the  Pasha's  daughter  Malachsala, 
Nor  blushed  to  brine  his  heathen  paramour  ' 


17 

Home  to  his  noble  wife  Angelica, 
Countess  o'f  Orlamund.     Yea,  and  the  Pope 
Sanctioned  the  filthy  sin. 

LANDGRAVE.    Himself  shall  say  it. 
Ho,  Gunther!     (Enter,  a  lackey)     Bid  the  Prince  of  Meissen  here. 

(Exit  Lackey.     The  Landgrave  paces  the  stage  in  agitation.     Enter  Prince    Wil- 
ilam.) 

PRINCE  W.      Father,  you  called  me? 

LANDGRAVE.  Ay,  when  were  you  .last 

In  Nordhausen? 

P.HINCE  W.  This'morning  I  rode  hence. 

LANDGRAVE.     Were  you  at  Susskind's  house? 

PRINCE  W.     I  was,  my  liege. 

LANDGRAVE.     I  hear  you  entertain  unseemly  love 
For  the  Jew's  daughter. 

PRINCE  W.     Who  has  told  thee  this? 

SCHNETZEN,  This  I  have  told  him. 

PRINCE  W.  Father,  believe  him  not. 
I  swear  by  heaven  'tis  no  unseemly  love 
Leads  me  to  Susskind's  house. 

LANDGRAVE.  With  what  nigh  title 

Please  you  to  qualify  it? 

PRINCE  W.  True,  I  love 

Liebhaid  von  Orb,  but  'tis  the  honest  passion 
Wherewith  a  knight  leads  home  his  equal  wife, 

LANDGRAVE.     Great  God!    and  thou  wilt  brag  thy  shame!     Thou 

speakest 

Of  wife  and  Jewess  in  one  breath!     Wilt  make 
Thy  princely  name  a  stench  in  German  nostrils? 

PRINCE  \V.     Hold,  father,  hold!    You  know  her — yes,  a  Jewess 
In  her  domestic  piety,  her  soul 
Large,  simple,  splendid,  like  a  star,  her  heart 
Suffused  with  Syrian  sunshine— but  no  more — 
The  aspect  of  a  Princess  of  Thuringia, 
Swan-necked,  gold-haired.  Madonna-eyed.     I  love  her! 
If  you  will  quench  this  passion,  take  my  life! 

(He  falls  at  his  father's  feet.     Frederick,  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  seizes  his  sword.) 

SCHNETZEN.     He  is  your  son! 

LANDGRAVE.  Oh  th.nt  he  ne'er  were  born! 

Hola!    Halberdiers!  Yeomen  of  the  Guard! 

(Enter  Guardsmen.)         Bear  oft"  this  prisoner!     Let  him  sigh  out 
His  blasphemous  folly  in  the  castle  tower,' 
Until  his  hair  be  snow,  his  fingers  claws. 

They  seize  and  bear  away  Prince  William. 
Well,  what's  your  counsel? 

SCHNETZEN.  Briefly  this,  my  lord. 

The  Jews  of  Nordhausen  have  brewed  the  Prince 


IS 

A  love-elixir—let  them  perish  all! 

(Tumult  without.  Singing  of  Hymns  and  Ringing  of  Church-bells.  The  Landgrave 
and  Schnetzen  go  to  the  window.) 

*Song  (witnout.) 

Tke  cruel  pestilence  arrives. 

Cuts  off  a  myriad  human  lives. 

See  the  flagellants  naked  skin  ! 

They  scourge  themselves  for  grievous  sin. 

Trembles  the  earth  beneath  God's  breath. 

The  Jews  shall  all  be  burned -to  death. 

LANDGRAVE.    Look,  foreign  pilgrims!     What  an  endless  file! 
Naked  waist-upward.     Blood  is  trickling  down 
Their  lacerated  flesh.     What  do  they  carry? 

SCHNETZEN.     Their  scourges— iron-pointed,  leathern  thongs. 
Mark  how  they  lash  themselves— the  strict  Flagellants. 
The  Brothers  of  the  Cross— hark  to  their  cries! 

VOICE  FROM  BELOW.     Atone,  ye  mighty!     God  is  wroth!    Expel 
The  enemies  of  heaven— raze  their  homes! 

( Confused  cries  from  below  which  gradually  die  away  in  the  distance  ) 
Woe  to  God's  enemies!     Death  to  the  Jews! 
They  poison  all  our  wells— they  bring  the  plague. 
Kill  them  who  killed  our   Lord!     Their  homes  shall  be 
A  wilderness — drown  them  in  their  own  blood! 

(The  Landgrave  and  Schnetzen  withdraw  from  the  window.) 

SCHNETZEN.     Do  not  the  people  ask  the  same  as  I.' 
Is  not  the  people's  voice  the  voice  of  God? 

LANDGRAVE.  I  will  consider. 

SCHNETZEN.  Not  too  long,  my  liege. 

The  moment  favors.     Later  'twere  hard  to  show 
Due  cause  to  his  Imperial  Majesty, 
For  slaughtering  the  vassals  of  the  Crown. 
Two  mighty  friends  are  theirs.     His  holiness 
Clement  the  Sixth  and  Kaiser  Karl. 

LANDGRAVE.  'Twere  rash 

Contending  with  such  odds. 

SCHNETZEN.  Courage,  my  lord. 

These  battle  singly  against  death  and  fate. 
Your  allies  are  the  sense  and  heart  o'  the  world. 
Priests  war-ing  for  their  Christ,  nobles  for  gold, 
And  peoples  for  the  very  breath  of  life 
Spoiled  by  the  poison-mixers.     Kaiser  Karl 
Lifts  his  lone  voice  unheard,  athwart  the  roar 
Of  such  a  flood;     the  papal  bull  is  whirled 
An  unconsidered  rag  amidst  the  eddies. 
>w.  LANDGRAVK.     What  credence  lend  you  to  the  general  rumor 

•  A  Rhyme  of  the  Times.     See  Graetz'  History  of  the  Jews,  Page  374,  Vol.  T. 


Of  the  river  poison? 

SCHNETZEN.  Sudh  as  mine  eyes  avouch.      - 

I  have  seen,  yea  touched  the  leathern  wallet  found 
On  the  body  of  one  from  whom  the  truth  was  wrenched 
By  salutary  torture.     He  confessed, 
Though  but  a  famulus  of  the  master- wizard, 
The  horrible  old  Moses  of  Mayence, 
He  had  flung  such  pouches  in  the  Rhine,  the  Elbe, 
The  Oder,  Danube— in  a  hundred  brooks, 
Until  the  wholesome  air  reeked  pestilence; 
'  Fwas    an  ell  long,  filled  w\th  a  dry,  fine  dust 
Of  rusty  black  and  red,  deftly  compounded 
Of  powdered  flesh  of  basilisks,  spiders,  frogs, 
And  lizards,  baked  with  sacramental  dough 
In  Christian  blood. 

LANDGRAVE.  Such  goblin-tales  may  curdle 

The  veins  of  priest-rid  women,  fools  and  children. 
They  are  not  for  the  ears  of  sober  men. 

SCHNETZEN.     Pardon  me,  Sire.     I  am  a  simple  soldier. 
My  God,  my  conscience,  and  my  suzerain, 
These  are  my  guides — blindfold  I  follow  them. 
If  your  keen  royal  wit  pierce  the  gross  web 
Of  common  superstition— be  not  wroth 
At  your  poor  vassal's   loyal  ignorance. 
Remember,  too,   Siisskind  retains  your  bonds. 
The  old  fox    will  not  press  you;  he  would  bleed 
Against  the  native  instinct  of  the  Jew, 
Rather  his  last  gold  doit,  and  so  possess 
Your  ease  of  mind,  nag,  chafe  and  toy  with  it; 
Abide  his  natural  death,  and  other  Jews 
Less  devilish-cunning,  franklier  Hebrew-viced, 
Will  claim  redemption  of  your  pledge. 

LANDGRAVE.  How  know  you 

That  Siisskind  holds  my  bonds? 

SCHNETZEN.    You  think  the  Jews 
Keep  such  things  secret?     Not  a  Jew  but  knows 
Your  debt  exact — the  sum  and  date  of  interest 
And  that  you  visit  Siisskind,  not  for  love, 
But  for  his  shekels. 

LANDGRAVE.  Well,  the  Jew's  shall  die. 

This  is  the  will  of  God.     Whom  shall  I  send 
To  bear  my  message  to  the  council? 

SCHNETZEN.     I 

Am  ever  at  your  'hest.     To-morrow  morn 
Sees  me  in  Nordhausen. 

LANDGRAVE.  Come  two  hours  hence. 

I  will  deliver  you  the  letter  signed. 
Make  ready  for  your  ride. 


20 

SCHNETZEN.     (kisses  Frederick's  hand.)     Farewell,  my  master. 
(aside.)     Ah  vengeance  Cometh  late,  Siisskind  von  Orb, 
But  yet  it  comes!     My  wife  was  burned  through  thce, 
Thou  and  thy  children  are  consumed  by  me! 

Exit. 

SCENE  II.     A  Room  in  the  Wartburg   Monastery.     Princess    Mathildis  and    Prior 

Peppercorn. 

PRIOR.     Be  comforted,  my  daughter.     Your  lord's  wisdom 
Goes  hand  in  hand  with  his  known  piety 
Thus  dealing  with  your  son.     Tc  love  a  Jewess 
Is  flat  contempt  of  heaven—  to  ask  in  marriage, 
Sheer  spiritual  suicide.     Let  be; 
Justice  must  take  its  course. 

PRINCESS.  Justice  is  murdered; 

Oh  slander  not  her  corpse.     For  my  son's  fault, 
A  thousand  innocents  are  doomed.     Is  that 
God's  justice? 

PRIOR.  Yea,  our  liege  is  but  His  servant. 

Did  not  He  purge  with  fiery  hail  those  twain 
Blotches  of  festering  sin,  Gomorrah,  Sodom? 
The  Jews  are  never  innocent, — when  Christ 
Agonized  on  the  Cross,  they  cned — "  His  blood 
Be  on  our  children's  heads  and  ours!"     I  mark 
A  dangerous  growing  evil  of  these  days, 
Pity,  misnamed — say,  criminal  indulgence 
Of  reprobates  brow-branded  by  the  Lord. 
Shall  we  excel  the  Christ  in  charity? 
Because  His  law  is  Jove,  we  tutor  him 
In  mercy  and  reward  his  murderers? 
Justice  is  blind  and  virtue  is  austere. 
If  the  true  passion  brimmed  our  yearning  hearts 
The  vision  of  the  agony  would  loom 
Fixed  vividly  between  the  day  and  us;— • 
Nailed  on  the  gaunt  black  Cross  the  divine  form, 
Wax-white  and  dripping  blood  from  ankles,  wrists, 
The  sacred  ichor  that  redeems  the  world, 
And   crowded  in  strange  shadow  of  eclipse.  * 
Reviling  Jews,  wagging  their  heads  accursed, 
Sputtering,  blasphemy — who  then  would  shrink 
From  holy  vengeance?  who  would  offer  less 
Heroic  wrath  and  filial  zeal  to  God 
Than  to  a  murdered  father? 

PRINCESS.  But  my  son 

Will  die  with  her  he  loves. 

PRIOR.  Better  to  perish 

In  time  than  in  eternity.     No  question 
Pends  here  of  individual  life;  our  sight 


Must  broaden  to  embrace  the  scope  sublime 

Of  this  trans-earthly  theme.     The  Jew  survived     '- •, 

Sword,  plague,  fire,  cataclysm — and  must,  since  Christ 

Cursed  him  to  live  till  doomsday,  still  to  be 

A  scarecrow  to  the  nations.     None  the  less 

Are  we  beholden  in  Christ's  name  at  whiles, 

When  maggot-wise  Jews  breed,  infest,  infect 

Communities  of  Christians,  to  wash  clean 

The  Church's  vesture,  shaking  off  the  filth 

That  gathers  round  her  skirts.     A  perilous  germ! 

Know  you  not,  all  the  wells,  the  very  air 

The  Jews  have  poisoned? — Through  their  arts  alone 

The  Black  Death  scourges  Christendom. 

PRINCESS.  I  know 

All  heinousness  imputed  by  their  foes. 
Father,  mistake  me  not:   I  urge  no  plea 
To  shield  this  hell-spawn,  loathed  by  all  who  love 
The  lamb  and  kiss  the  Cross.     I  had  not  guessed 
Such  obscure  creatures  crawled  upon  my  path, 
Had  not  my  son — I  know  not  how  misled 
Deigned  to  ennoble  with  his  great  regard, 
A  sparkle  midst  the  dust  motes.     She  is  sacred. 
What  is  her  tribe  to  me?     Her  kith  and  kin 
May  rot  or  roast — the  Jews  of  Nordhausen 
May  hang,  drown,  perish  like  the  Jews  of  France, 
But  she  shall  live — Liebhaid  von  Orb,  the  Jewess, 
The  Prince,  my  son,  elects  to  love. 

PRIOR.  Amen! 

Washed  in  baptismal  waters  she  shall  be 
Led  like  the  clean-fleeced  yeanling  to  the  fold. 
Trust  me,  my  daughter — for  through  me  the  Church 
Which  is  the  truth,  which  is  the  life,  doth  speak. 
Yet  first  'twere  best  essay  to  cure  the  Prince 
Of  his  moon-fostered  madness,  bred,  no  doubt, 
By  baneful  potions  which  these  cunning  knaves 
Are  skilled  to  mix. 

PRINCESS.  Go  visit  him,  dear  father, 

Where  in  the  high  tower  mewed,  a  wing-clipped  eagle, 
His  spirit  breaks  in  cage.     You  are  his  master, 
He  is  wont  from  childhood  to  hear  wisdom  fall 
From  your  instructed  lips.     Tell  him  his  mother 
Rises  not  from  her  knees,  till  he  is  freed. 

PRIOR      Madam,  I  go.     Our  holy  Church  has  healed 
Far  deadlier  heart-wounds  than  a  love-sick  boy's. 
Be  of  good  cheer,  the  Prince  shall  live  to  bless 
The  father's  rigor  who  kept  pure  of  blot 
A  'scutcheon  more  unsullied  than  the  sun. 

PRINCESS.  Thanks  and  farewell. 


22 

PRIOR.  Farewell.     God  send  thee  peace! 

(Exeunt.) 

SCENE  III.     A  mean  apartment  in  one  of  the  Towers  of  the  Landgrave's  Palace. 
PRINCE  WILLIAM  discovered  seated  at  the  window. 

PRINCE  W.     The  slow  sun  sets;  with  lingering,  large  embrace 
He  folds  the  enchanted  hill:  then  like  a  god 
Strides  into  heaven  behind  the  purple  peak. 
Oh  beautiful!     In  the  clear,  rayless  air, 
I  see  the  chequered  vale  mapped  far  below, 
The  sky-paved  streams,  the  velvet  pasture  slopes, 
The  grim,  gray  cloister  whose  deep  vesper  bell 
Blends  at  this  height  with  tinkling,  homebound  herds! 
I  see— but  oh,  how  far! — the  blessed  town 
Where  Liebhaid  dwells.     Oh  that  I   were  yon  star 
That  pricks  the  West's  unbroken  foil  of  gold, 
Bright  as  an  eye,  only  to  gaze  on  her! 
How  keen  it  sparkles  o'er  the  Venusbargf 
When  brown  night  falls  and  mists  begin  to  live, 
Then  will  the  phantom  hunting-train  emerge. 
Hounds  straining,  black  fire-eyeballed,  breathless  steeds, 
Spurred  by  wild  huntsmen,  and  unhallowed  nymphs, 
And  at  their  head  the  foam-begotten  witch, 
Of  soul-destroying  beauty,     Saints  of  heaven! 
Preserve  mine  eyes  from  such  unholy  sight! 
How  all  unlike  the  base  desire  which  leads 
Misguided  men  to  that  infernal  cave, 
Is  the  pure  passion  that  exalts  my  soul 
Like  a  religion!     Yet  Christ  pardon  me, 
If  this  be  sin  to  thee! 

(He  takes  his  lute,  and  begins  to  sing.     Enter  with  a  lamp  Steward  of  the  Castle, 
followed  by  Prior  Peppercorn.     Steward  lays  down  the  lamp  and  exit.) 
Good  even,  father! 

PRIOR.  Benedicite! 

Our  biid  makes  merry  his  dull  bars  with  song, 
Yet  would  not  penitential  psalms  accord 
More  fitly  with  your  sin  than  minstrels'  lays? 

PRINCE  W.     I  know  no  blot  upon  my  life's  fair  record. 

PRIOR.     What  is  it  to  wanton  with  a  Christ-cursed  Jewess, 
Defy  thy  father  and  pollute  thy  name, 
And  fling  to  the  ordures  thine  immortal  soul? 

PRINCE  W.     Forbear!  thy  cowl's  a  helmet,  thy  serge  frock 
Invulnerable  as  brass— yet  I  am  human, 
Ihou,  priest,  art  still  a  man. 

PRIOR.  Pity  him,  heaven! 

To  what  a  pass  their  draughts  have  brought  the  mildest, 
Noblest  of  princes!     Softly,  my  son;  be  ruled 
%  me,  thy  spiritual  friend  and  father. 


Thou  hast  been  drugged  with  sense-deranging  potions, 
Thy  blood  set  boiling  and  thy  brain' askew; 
When  these  thick  fumes  subside,  thou  shalt  awake 
To  bless  the  friend  who  gave  thy  madness  bounds. 

PRINCE  W.     Madness!     Yea,  as  the  sane  world  goes,  I  am  mad. 
What  else  to  help  the  helpless,  to  uplift 
The  low,  to   adore  the  good,  the  beautiful, 
To  live,  battle,  suffer,  die  for  truth,  for  love! 
But  that  is  wide  of  the  question.      Let  me  hear 
What  you  are  charged  to  impart — my  father's  will. 

PRIOR.      Heart-cleft  by  his  dear  offspring's  shame,  he  prays 
Your  reason  be  restored,  your  wayward  sense 
Renew  its  due  allegiance.     For  his  son 
He,  the  good  parent  weeps — hot  drops  of  gall, 
Wrung  from  a  spirit  seldom  eased  by  tears. 
But  for  his  honor  pricked,  the  Landgrave  takes 
Most  just  and  general  vengeance. 

PRINCE  W.  In  the  name  of  God, 

What  has  he  done  to  her? 

PRIOR.  Naught,  naught, — as  yet. 

Sweet  Prince,  be  calm;   you  leap  like  flax  to  flame. 
You  nest  within  your  heart  a  cockatrice, 
Pluck  it  from  out  your  bosom  and  breathe  pure 
Of  the  filthy  egg.     The  Landgrave  brooks  no  more 
The  abomination  that  infects  his  town. 
The  Jews  of  Nordhausen  are  doomed. 

PRINCE  W.  Alack! 

Who  and  how  many  of  that  harmless  tribe, 
Those  meek  and  pious  men  have  been  elected 
To  glut  with  innocent  blood  the  oppressor's   wrath? 

PRIOR.     Who  should  go  free  where  equal  guilt  is  shared? 
Frederick  is  just — they  perish  all  at  once, 
Generous  moreover— for  in  their  mode  of  death 
He  grants  them  choice. 

PRINCE  W.  My  father  had  not  lost 

The  human  semblance  when  I  saw  him  last. 
Nor  can  he  be  divorced  in  this  short  space 
From  his  shrewd  wit.     How  shall  he  make  provision 
For  the  vast  widowed,  orphaned  host    this  deed 
Burdens  the  state  withal? 

PRIOR.  Oh  excellent! 

This  is  the  crown  of  folly,  topping  all! 
Forgive  me,  Prince,  when  I  gain  breath  to  point 
Your  comic  blunder,  you  will  laugh  with  me. 
Patience  — I'll  draw  my  chin  as  long   as  yours. 
Well,  'twas  my  fault— one  should  be  accurate- 
Jews,  said  I?  when  I  meant  Jews,  Jewesses, 
And  Jewlings!  all  betwixt  the  age 


24 

Of  twenty-four  hours,  and  of  five  score  years. 

Of  either  sex,  of  every  known  degree, 

All  the  contaminating  vermin  purged 

With  one  clean,  searching  blast  of  wholesome  fire 

PRINCE  W.     Oh  Christ,  disgraced,  insulted!     Horrible  man, 
Remembered  be  your  laugh  in  lowest  hell, 
Dragging  you  to  the  nether  pit!      Forgive  me; 
You  are  my  friend — take  me  from  here —unbolt 
Those  iron  doors — I'll  crawl  upon  my  knees 
Unto  my  father — I  have  much  to  tell  him. 
For  but  the  freedom  of  one  hour,  sweet  Prior, 
I'll  brim  the  vessels  of  the  Church  with  gold. 

PRIOR.     Boy!  your  bribes  touch  not,  nor  your  curses  shake 
The  minister  of  Christ.     Yet  I  will  bear 
Your  message  to  the  Landgrave. 

PRINCE  W.  Whet  your  tongue 

Keen  as  the  archangel's  blade  of  truth— your  voice 
Be  as  God's  thunder,  and  your  heart  one  blaze — 
Then  can  you  speak  my  cause.     With  me,  it  needs 
No  plausive  gift;  the  smitten  head,   stopped  throat 
Blind  eyes  and  silent  suppliance  of  sorrow 
Persuade  beyond  all  eloquence.     Great  God! 
Here  while  I  rage  and  beat  against  my  bars, 
The  infernal  fagots  may  be  stacked  for  her, 
The  hell-spark  kindled.     Go  to  him,  dear  Prior, 
Speak  to  him  gently,  be  not  too  much  moved, 
'Neath  its  rude  case  you  had  ever  a  soft  heart, 
And  he  is  stirred  by  mildness  more  than  passion. 
Recall  to  him  her  round,  clear,  ardent  eyes, 
The  shower  of  sunshine  that's  her  hair,  t^ie  sheen 
Of  the  cream-white  flesh — shall  these  things  serve  as  fuel? 
Tell  him  that  when  she  heard  once  he  was  wounded, 
And  how  he  bled  and  anguished;  at  the  tale 
She  wept  for  pity. 

PRIOR.  If  her  love  be  true 

She  will  adore  her  lover's  God,  embrace 
The  faith  that  marries  you  in  life  and  death. 
This  promise  with  the  Landgrave  would  prevail 
More  than  all  sobs  and   pleadings. 

PRINCE  W.  Save  her,  save  her! 

If  any  promise,  vow  or  oath  can  serve, 
Oh  trusting,  tranquil  Siisskind,  who   estopped 
Your  ears  forewarned,  bandaged  your  visioned  eyes, 
To  woo  destruction!     Stay!  did  he  not  speak 
Of  amulet  or  talisman?    The.se  horrors 
Have  crowded  out  my  wits.     Yea,  the  gold  casket! 
What  fixed  serenity  beamed  from  his  brow, 
Laying  the  precious  box  within  my  hands! 


25 

[He  brings  from  the  shelf  the  casket,  and  hands  it  to  the  Prior.] 
Deliver  this  unto  the  Prince  my  father, 
Nor  lose  one  vital  moment.     What  it  holds, 
I  guess  not— but  my  light  heart  whispers  me 
The  jewel  safety's  locked  beneath  its  lid. 

PRIOR.      First  I  must  foil  such  devil's  tricks  as  lurk 
In  its  gem-crusted  cabinet. 

PRINCE  Away! 

Deliverance  posts  on  your  return     I  feel  it. 
For  your  much  comfort  thanks.     Goodnight. 

PRIOR.  Goodnight. 

Exit. 

END   OF  SECOND  ACT. 

ACT  III. 

A  cell  in  the  Wartburg  Monastery.     Enter  Prior  Peppercorn  with  the  casket. 

PRIOR.     So!  Glittering  shell  where  doubtless  shines  concealed 
An  orient  treasure  fit  to  bribe  a  king, 
Ransom  a  prince  and  buy  him  for  a  son. 
I  have  baptized  thee  now  before  the  altar, 
Effaced  the  Jew's  contaminating  touch, 
And  I  am  free  to  claim  the  Church's  tithe 

.  From  thy  receptacle.     (He  is  about  to  unlock  the  casket,  when,  enters 
Lay  Brother,  and  he  hastily  conceals  it."] 

LAY  BROTHER.  Peace  be  thine,  father! 

PRIOR.      Amen!   and  thine.     What's   new? 

LAY  BROTHER.  A  strange  Flagellant 

Fresh  come  to  Wartburg  craves  a  word   with  thee. 

PRl6R.      Bid  him  within.   (Exit  Lay  Brother.     Prior  places  the  cas 
ket  in  a  Cabinet.}    Patience!  No  hour  of  the  day 
Brings  freedom  to  the  priest. 

(Re-enter  Lay  Brother  ushering  in  Nordmann — and  exit.) 

Brother,  all  hail! 
Blessed  be  thou  who  comest  in  God's  name! 

NORDMANN.     May  the  Lord  grant  thee  thine  own  prayer  four-fold! 

PRIO.H.      What  is  thine  errand.'' 

NORDMANN.  Look  at  me,  my  father. 

Long  since  you  called  me  friend. 

(  The  Prior  looks  at  him  attentively,  while  an    expression   of  wonder  and  terror 
gradually  overspreads  his  face.) 

PRIOR.  Almighty  God! 

The  grave  gives  up  her  dead.     Thou  canst  not  be — 

NOKDMANN.      Nordmann  of  Nordmannstein,the  Knight  of  Treffurt. 

PRIOR.      He  was  beheaded  years  agone. 


26 

NORDMANN.  His  death 

Had  been  decreed,  but  in  his  stead  a  squire 
Clad  in  his  garb  and  masked,  paid  bloody  forfeit. 
A  loyal  wretch  on  whom  theoPrince  wreaked  vengeance, 
Rather  than  publish  the  true  bird  had  flown. 

PRIOR.     Does  Frederick  khow  thou  art  in  Eisenach? 

NORDMANN.     Who  would  divine  the  Knight  of  Nordmannstein 
In  the  Flagellants'  weeds?     From  land  to  land, 
From  town  to  town,  we  cry,  "  Death  to  the  Jews! 
Hep!  hep!  Hierosolyma  Est  Perdita\" 
They  die  like  rats;  in  Gotha  they  are  burned; 
Two  of  the  devil  brutes  in  Chatelard, 
Child-murderers,  wizards,  breeders  of  the  Plague, 
Had  the  truth  squeezed  from  them  with  screws  and  racks, 
All  with  explicit  date,  place,  circumstance, 
And  written  as  it  fell  from  dying  lips 
By  scriveners  of  the  law.     Un  their  confession 
The  Jews  of  Savoy  were  destroyed.     To-morrow  noon 
The  holy  flames  shall  dance  in  Nordhausen. 

PRIOR.     Your  zeal  bespeaks  you  fair.     In  your  deep  eyes. 
A  mystic  fervor  shines;  yet  your  scarred  flesh 
And  shrunken  limbs  denote  exhausted  nature, 
Collapsing  under  discipline. 

NORDMANN.  Speak  not 

Of  the  degrading  body  and  its  pangs. 
I  am  all  zeal,  all  energy,  all  spirit. 
Jesus  was  wroth  at  me,  at  all  the  world, 
For  our  indulgence  of  the  flesh,  our  base 
Compounding  with  his  enemies  the  Jews. 
But  at  Madonna  Mary's  intercession, 
He  charged  an  angel  with  this  gracious  word, 
"  Whoso  will  scourge  himself  for  forty  days, 
And  labor  towards  the  clean  extermination 
Of  earth's  corrupting  vermin,  shall  be  saved." 
Oh,  what  vast  peace  this  message  brought  my  soul! 
I  have  learned  to  love  the  ecstasy  of  pain. 
When  the  sweat  stands  upon  my  flesh,  the  blood 
Throbs  in  my  bursting  veins,  my  twisted  muscles 
Are  cramped  with  agony,  1  seem  to  crawl 
Anigh  his  feet  who  suffered  on  the  Cross. 

PRIOR.     Oh  all  transforming  Time!     Can  this  be  he, 
The  iron  warrior  of  a   decade  since, 
The  gallant  youth  of  earlier  years,  whose  pranks 
And  reckless  buoyancy  of  temper  flashed 
Clear  sunshine  through  my  gloom? 

NORDMANN.  I  am  unchanged, 

(Save  that  the  spirit  of  grace  has  fallen  on  me.) 
Urged  by  one  motive  through  these  banished  years,  j 


87 

Fed  by  one  hope,  awake  to  realize 
One  living  dream — my  long  delayed  revenge. 
You  saw  the  day  when  Henry  Schnetzen's  castle 
Was  razed  with  fire? 

PRIOR.  I  saw  it. 

NORDMANN.  Schnetzen's  wife, 

Three  days  a  mother,  perished. 

PRIOR.  And  his  child? 

NORDMANN.     His  child  was  saved. 

PRIOR.  By  whom? 

NORDMANN.  By  the  same  Jew 

Who  had  betrayed  the  Castle. 

PRIOR.  Siisskind  von  Orb? 

NORDMANN.     Siisskind  von  Orb!  and  Schnetzen's  daughter  lives 
As  the  Jew's  child  within  the  Judengasse. 

PRIOR,     (eagerly}     What  proof  hast  thou  of  this? 

NORDMANN.  Proof  of  these  eyes! 

I  visited  von  Orb  to  ask  a  loan. 
There  saw  I  such  a  maiden  as  no  Jew 
Was  ever  blessed  withal  since  Jesus  died. 
White  as  a  dove,  with  hair  like  golden  floss, 
Eyes  like  an  Alpine  lake.     The  haughty  line 
Of  brow  imperial,  high  bridged  nose,  fine  chin, 
Seemed  like  the  shadow  cast  upon  the  wall, 
Where  Lady  Schnetzen  stood. 

PRIOR.  Why  hast  thou  ne'er 

Discovered  her  to  Schnetzen? 

NORDMANN.  He  was  my  friend. 

I  shared  with  him  thirst,  hunger,  sword  and  fire. 
But  he  became  a  court'er.     When  the  Margrave 
Sent  me  his  second  challenge  to  the  field, 
His  messenger  was  Schnetzen!     'Mongst  his  knights, 
The  apple  of  his  eye  was  Henry  Schnetzen. 
He  was  the  hound  that  hunted  me  to  death. 
He  stood  by  Frederick's  side  when  I   was  led 
Bound,  to  the  presence.     I  denounced  him  coward, 
He  smote  me  on  the  cheek.     Christ!  it  stings  yet. 
He  hissed—"  My  liege,  let  Henry  Nordmann  hang! 
He  is  no  knight,  for  he  receives  a  blow, 
Nor  dare  avenge  it!"     My  gyved  wrists  moved  not, 
No  nerve  twitched  in  my  face,  although  I  felt 
Flame  leap  there  from  my  heart,  then  flying  back, 
Leave  it  cold-bathed  with  deathly  ooze— my  soul 
In  silence  took  her  supreme  vow  of  hate. 

PRIOR.     Praise  be  to  God  that  thou  hast  come  to-day. 
To-morrow  were  too  late.     Hast  thou  not  heard 
Frederick  sends  Schnetzen  unto  Nordhausen, 
With  fire  and  torture  for  the  Jews? 


28 

NORDMANN.  So!  Henry  Schnetzen 

Shall  be  the  Jews'  destroyer?     Ah! 

PRIOR.  One  moment. 

Mayhap  this  box  which  Siisskind  sends  the  Prince 
Reveals  more  wonders.       He  brings  forth  the  Casket  from   the  Cabi 
net opens  it,  and  discovers  a  golden  cross  and  a  parchment  which  he 

hastily  overlooks.}     Hark!  your  word's  confirmed 
Blessed  be  Christ,  our  Lord!     (reads.} 

"  I  Siisskind  von  Orb  of  Nordhausen,  swear  by  the  unutterable  Name,  that  on  the 
day  when  the  Castle  of  Salza  was  burned,  I  rescued  the  infant  daughter  of  Henry 
Schnetzen  from  the  flames.  I  purposed  restoring  her  to  her  father,  but  when  1  re 
turned  to  Nordhausen,  I  found  my  own  child  lying  on  her  bier,  and  my  wife  in  fe 
vered  frenzy  calling  for  her  babe.  I  sought  the  leech,  who  counseled  me  to  show 
the  Christian  child  to  the  bereaved  mother  as  her  own.  The  pious  trick  prevailed; 
the  fever  broke,  the  mother  was  restored.  But  never  would  she  part  with  the  child, 
even  when  she  had  learned  to  whom  it  belonged,  and  until  she  was  gathered  with  the 
dead — may  peace  be  with  her  soul! — she  fostered  in  our  Jewish  home  the  offspring  of 
the  Gentile  knight.  Then  again  would  I  have  yielded  the  girl  to  her  parent,  but 
Schnetzen  was  my  foe,  and  I  feared  the  haughty  baron  would  disown  the  daughter 
who  came  from  the  hands  of  the  Jew.  Now  however  the  maiden's  temporal  happiness 
demands  that  she  be  acknowledged  by  her  rightful  father.  Let  him  see  what  I  have 
written.  As  a  token,  behold  this  golden  cross,  bound  by  the  Lady  Schnetzen  round 
the  infant's  neck.  May  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob  redeem  and  bless  me 
as  I  have  writ  the  truth." 

PRIOR.     I  thank  the  Saints  that  this  has  come  betimes. 
Thou  shalt  renounce  thy  hate.     Vengeance  is  mine,     . 
The  Lord  hath  said. 

NORDMANN.  Oh!  all  transforming  Time! 

Is  this  meek,  saintly-hypocrite,  the  firm 
Ambitious,  resolute  Reinhard  Peppercorn, 
Terror  of  Jews  and  beacon  of  the   Church? 
Look,  you,  I  have  won  the  special  grace  of  Christ, 
He  knows  through  what  fierce  anguish!     Now  he  leans 
Out  of  his  heaven  to  whisper  in  mine  ear, 
And  reach  me  my  revenge.      He  makes  my  cause 
His  own— and  I  shall  fail  upon  these  heights, 
Sink  from  the  level  of  a  hate  sublime, 
To  puerile  pity!  , 

PRIOR.  Be  advised.     You  hold 

Your  enemy's  living  heart  within  your  hands. 
This  secret  is  far  costlier  than  you  dreamed, 
For  Frederick's  son  woos  Schnetzen's  daughter.      See, 
A  hundred  delicate  springs  your  wit  may  move, 
Your  puppets  are  the  Landgrave  and  the  Prince, 
The  Governor  of  Salza  and  the  Jews. 
You  may  recover  station,  wealth  and  honor,    . 
Selling  your  secret  shrewdly;  while  rash  greed 
Of  clumsy  vengeance  may  but  drag  you  down 
In  the  wild  whirl  of  universal  ruin. 

NORDMANN.     Christ  teach  me  whom  to  trust!     I  would  not  spill 


29 

One  drop  from  out  this  brimming  glorious  cup 

For  which  my  parched  heart  pants.      I  will  consider. 

PRIOR.     Pardon  me  now,  if  I  break  off  our  talk. 
Let  all  rest  as  it  stands  until  the  dawn. 
I  have  many  orisons  before  the  light. 

NORDMANN.     Goodnight,  true  friend.    Devote  a  prayer  to  me. 
(Aside.}   I  will  outwit  you,  serpent,  though  you  glide 
Athwart  the  dark,  noiseless  and  swift  as  fate. 

Exit. 

SCENE  If.  On  the  road  to  Nordhausen.  Moonlit,  rocky  landscape.  On  the  right 
between  high,  white  cliffs  a  narrow  stream  spanned  by  a  wooden  bridge.  Thick 
bushes  and  trees.  Enter  PRINCE  WILLIAM  and  PAGE. 

PRINCE  W.     Is  this  the  place  where  we  shall  find  fresh  steeds? 
Would  I  had  not  dismounted! 

PAGE.  Nay,  sir;  beyond 

The  Werra  bridge  the  horses  wait  for  us. 
These  rotten  planks  would  never  bear  their  weight. 

PRINCE  W.    When  I  am  Landgrave  these  things  shall  be  cared  for. 
This  is  an  ugly  spot  for  travelers 
To  loiter  in.      How  swift  the  water  runs, 
Brawling  above  our  voices.      Human  cries 
Would  never  reach  Liborius'  convent  yonder, 
Perched  on  the  sheer,  chalk  cliff.     I  thinly  of  peril, 
From  my  excess  of  joy      My  spirit  chafes, 
She  that  would  breast  broad-winged  the  air,  must  halt 
On  stumbling  mortal  limbs.     Look,  thither,  boy, 
How  the  black  shadows  of  the  tree-boles  stripe 
The  moon- blanched  bridge  and  meadow, 

PAGE.  Sir.  what's  that? 

Yon  stir  and  glitter  in  the  bush? 

PRINCE  W.  The  moon 

Pricking  the  dewdrops,  plays  fantastic  tricks 
With  objects  most  familiar.     Look  again, 
And  where  thou  sawst  the  steel-blue  flicker  glint, 
Thou  findst  a  black,  wet  leaf. 

'PAGE.  No,  no!  oh  God! 

Your  sword,  sir!     Treason! 

(Four  armed  masked  men  leap  from  out  the  bush,  sei/.e,  bind  and  overmaster,  after 
a  brief  but  violent  resistance,  the  Prince  and  his  servant.) 

PRINCE  W.     Who  are  ye,  villains?     lying 
In  murderous  ambush  for  the  Prince  of  Meissen? 
If  you  be  knights,  speak  honorably  your  names, 
And  I  will  combat  you  in  knightly   wise. 
If  ye  be  robbers,  name  forthwith  your  ransom. 
Let  me  but  speed  upon  my  journey  now. 
By  Christ's  blood.  I  beseech  you,  let  me  go! 
Ho!  treason!  murder!  help! 

(He  is  dragged  off  struggling      Exeunt  omnes.) 


30 
SCENE  III.     Nordhausen.     A   room  in  Sflsskind's  house,     Liebhaid  and  Claire. 

LlEBHAID.     Say  on,  poor  girl,  if  but  to  speak  these  horrors 
Revive  not  too  intense  a  pang. 

CLAIRE.  Not  so. 

For  all  my  woes  seem  here  to  merge  their  flood 
Into  a  sea  of  infinite  repose. 
Through  France  our  journey  led,  as  I  have  told, 
From  desolation  unto  desolation. 

Naught  stayed  my  father's  course— sword,  storm,  flame,  plague, 
Exhaustion  of  the  eighty  year  old  frame. 
O'ertaxed  beyond  endurance.     Once,  once  only, 
His  divine  face  succumbed.     'Twas  at  day's  close, 
And  all  the  air  was  one  discouragement 
Of  April  snow-flakes.     I  was  drenched,  cold,  sick, 
With  weariness  and  hunger  light  of  head, 
And  on  the  open  road,  suddenly  turned 
The  whole  world  like  the  spinning  flakes  of  snow. 
My  numb  hand  slipped  from  his,  and  all  was  blank. 
His  beard,  his  breath  upon  my  brow,  his  tears 
Scalding  my  cheek  hugged  close  against  his  breast, 
And  in  my  ear  deep  groans  awoke  me.     "  God!" 
I  heard  him  cry — "  try  me  not  past  my  strength. 
No  prophet  I,  a  blind,  old  dying  man!" 
Gently  I  drew  his  face  to  mine,  and  kissed, 
Whispering  courage — then  his  spirit  broke 
Utterly;  shattered  were  his  wits,  I  feared. 
.But  past  is  past;  he  is  at  peace,  and  I 
Find  shelter  from  the  tempest.  Tell  me  rather 
Of  your  serene  life. 

LIEBHAID.  Happiness  is  mute. 

What  record  speaks  of  placid,  golden  days, 
Matched  each  with  each  as  twins?     Till  yester-eve 
My  life  was  simple  as  a  song.      At  whiles 
Dark  tales  have  reached  us  of  our  people's   wrongs 
Strange,  far-off  anguish,  furrowing  with  fresh  care' 
My  father's  brow,  draping  our  home  with  gloom. 

Were  still  blessed;  the  Landgrave  is  his  friend 

The  Prince— my  Prince— dear  Claire,  ask  me  no  more! 
My  adored  enemy,  my  angel-fiend, 
Splitting  my  heart  against  my  heart!     Oh  God, 
How  shall  I  pray  for  strength  to  love  him  less 
Than  mine  own  soul? 

CLAIRE.  What  mean  these  contrarv  words? 

I  hese  passionate  tears? 

LIEBHAID.  Brave  girl,  who  art  inured 

lo  difficult  privation  and  rude  pain, 
What  good  shall  come  forswearing  kith  and  God, 


To  fellow  the  allurements  of  the  heart? 

CLAIRE.     Duty  wears  one  face,  but  a  thousand  masks. 
Thy  feet  she  leads  to  glittering  peaks,  while  mine 
She  guides  midst  brambled  roadways.      Not  the  first 
Art  thou  of  Israel's  women,  chosen  of  God, 
To  rule  o'er  rulers.      I  remember  me 
A  verse  my  father  often  would  repeat 
Out  of  our  sacred  Talmud:   "  Every  time     • 
The  sun,  moon,  stars  begin  again  their  course, 
They  hesitate,  trembling  and  filled  with  shame, 
Blush  at  the  blasphemous  worship  offered  them, 
And  'each  time  God's  voice  thunders,  crying  out, 
On  with  your  duty!" 

(Enter  Reuben.) 

REUBEN.  Sister,  we  are  lost! 

The  streets  are  thronged  with  panic-stricken  folk. 
Wild  rumors'fill  the  air.      Two  of  our  tribe, 
Young  Mordecai,  as  I  hear,  and  old  Baruch, 
Seized  by  the  mob,  were  dragged  towards  Eisenach, 
Cruelly  used,  left  to  bleed  out  their  lives, 
In  the  wayside  ditch  at  night.     This  morn,  betimes, 
The  iron-hearted  Governor  of  Salza, 
Rides  furious  into  Nordhausen;  his  horse 
Spurred  past  endurance,  drops  before  the  gate. 
The  Council  has  been  called  to  hear  him  read 
The  Landgrave's  message,—  all  men  say,  'tis  death 
Unto  our  race. 

LlEBHAlD.  Where  is  our  father,  Reuben? 

REUBEN.     With   Rabbi  Jacob..   Through  the  streets  they  walk, 
Striving  to  quell  the  terror      Ah,  too  late! 
Had  he  but  heeded  the  prophetic  voice, 
This  warning  angel  led  to  us  in  vain! 

LlEBHAlD.      Brother;  be  calm.     Man   your  young  heart  to  front 
Whatever  ills  the  Lord  afflicts  us  with. 
What  does  Prince  William?     Hastes  he  not  to  aid? 

REUBEN.      None  know  his  whereabouts.     Some  say  he's  held 
Imprisoned  by  the  Landgrave.     Others  tell 
While  he  was  posting  with  deliverance 
To  NorHhausen,  in  bloody  Schnetzen's  wake, 
H--  was  set-upon  by  ruffians — kidnapped— killed. 
What  do  I  know — hid  till  our  ruin's  wrought. 

(Liebhaid  swoons.) 

CLAIRE.    Hush,  foolish  boy.     See  how  your  rude  words  hurt 
Look  up,  sweet  girl;  take  comfort. 
REUBEN.  Pluck  up  heart: 

Dear  sister,  pardon  me;  he  lives,  lie  lives! 

LlEBHAlD.      God  help  me!     Shall  my  heart  crack  for  love  s  loss 
That  meekly  bears  my  people's  martyrdom? 


33 

He  lives  — I  feel  it— to  live  or  die  with  me. 
I  love  him  as  my  soul— no  more  of  that. 
I  am  all  Israel's  now— till  this  cloud  pass, 
I  have  no  thought,  no  passion,  no  desire, 
Save  for  my  people 

(Enter  Susskind.) 

SUSSKIND.  Blessed  art  thou,  my  child! 

This  is  the  darkest  hour  before  the  dawn. 

Thou  art  the  morning  star  of  Israel. 

How  dear  thou  art  to  me — heart  of  my  heart, 

Mine,  mine,  all  mine  to-day!  the  pious  thought, 

The  orient  spirit  mine,  the  Jewish  soul. 

The  glowing  veins  that  sucked  life-nourishment 

From  Hebrew  mother's  milk.     Look  at  me,  Liebhaid, 

Tell  me  you  love  me      Pity  me,  my  God! 

No  fiercer  pang  than  this  did  Jephthah  know. 

LIEBHAID.      Father,  what  wild  and  wandering  words  are  these? 

Is  all  hope  lost? 

SUSSKIND.  •  Nay,  God  is  good  to  us. 

I  am  so  well  assured  the  town  is  safe, 
That  I-  can  weep  my  private  loss— of  thee. 
An  ugly  dream  I  had,  quits  not  my  sense, 
That  you,  made  Princess  of  Thuringia, 

Forsook  your  father,  and  forswore  your  race.  V 

Forgive  me,  Liebhaid,  I  am  calm  again. 
We  must  be  brave — I  who  besought  my  tribe 
To  bide  their  fate  in  Nordhausen,  and  you 
Whom  God  elects  for  a  peculiar  lot. 
With  many  have  I  talked;  some  crouched  at  home, 
Some  wringing  hands  about  the  public  ways. 
I  gave  all  comfort       I  am  very  weary. 
My  children,  we  had  best  go  in  and  pray, 
Solace  and  safety  dwell  but  in  the  Lord. 

(Exeunt.) 

END    OF   THJRD   ACT. 


33 
ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I.  The  City  Hall  at  Nordhausen.  Deputies  and  Burghers  assembling.  To 
the  right  at  a  table  near  the  President's  chair,  is  seated  the  Public  Scrivener.  En 
ter  DIETRICH  vox  TETTENBORN,  and  HENRY  SCHNETZEN  with  an  open  letter 
in  his  hand. 

SCHNETZEN.     Didst  hear  the  fellow's  words  who  handed  it? 
I  asked  from  whom  it  came,  he  spoke  by  rote, 
"  The  pepper  bites,  the  corn  is  ripe  for  harvest, 
I  come  from  Eisenach."     'Tis  some  tedious  jest. 

TETTENBORN.     Doubtless  your  shrewd  friend  Prior  Peppercorn 
Masks  here  some  warning.     Ask  the  scrivener 
To  help  us  to  its  contents. 

SCHNETZEN.     (To  the  clerk.}    Read  me  these. 

SCRIVENER  (veadsy 

*'  Beware,  Lord  Henry  Schnet/en,    of  Siisskind's  lying  tongue!     He  will 
thrust  a  cuckoo's  egg  into  your  nest. 

[Signed]        ONE  WHO  KNOWS." 

SCHNETZEN.     A  cuckoo's  egg!  that  riddle  puzzles  me; 
But  this  I   know.     Schnetzen  is'no  man's  du*pe, 
Much  less  a  Jew's. 

(Schnetzen  and  von  Tettenborn  take  their  seats  side  by  side.) 

TETTENBORN.  Knights,  counsellors  and  burghers! 

Sir  Henry  Schnetzen,  Governor  of  Salza, 
Comes  on  grave  mission  from  His  Highness  Frederick, 
Margrave  of  Meissen,  Landgrave  of  Thuringia, 
Our  town's  imperial  Patron  and  Protector. 

SCHNETZEN.      Gentles,  I  greet  you  in  the  Landgrave's  name, 
The  honored  bearer  of  his  princely  script, 
Sealed  with  his  signet.      Read,  good  Master  Clerk. 

[He  hands  a  parchment  to  the  Scrivener,  who  reads  aloud  :J 

Lord  President  and  Deputies  of  the  town  of  Nordhausen!  Know  that  we,  Frede 
rick,  Margrave  of  Meissen,  and  Landgrave  of  Thuringia,  command  to  be  burned  all 
the  Jews  within  our  territories  as  far  as  our  lands  extend,  on  account  of  the  great 
crime  they  have  committed  agaii\st  Christendom  in  throwing  poison  into  the  wells, 
of  the  truth  of  which  indictme.u  we  have  absolute  knowledge.  Therefore  we  admon 
ish  you  to  have  the  Jews  killed  m  honor  of  God,  so  that  Christendom  be  not  enfee-- 
bled  by  them.  Whatever  responsibility  you  incur,  we  will  assume  with  our  Lord  the 
Emperor,  and  with  all  other  lords.  Know  also  that  we  send  to  you  Henry  Schnet 
zen,  our  Governor  of  Salza,  who  shall  publicly  accuse  your  Jews  of  the  above-men 
tioned  crime.  Therefore  we  beseech  you  to  help  him  to  do  justice  upon  them,  and  we 
will  singularly  reward  your  good  will. 

Given  at  Eisenach,  the  Thursday  after  St.  Walpurgis,  under  our  secret  seal.f 

A  COUNSELLOR    (Diether  von  Werther.']     Fit  silence  welcomes  this 

unheard-of  wrong ! 

So!  Ye  are  men — free,  upright,  honest  men, 
Not  hired  assassins?     I  half  doubted  it, 


t  This  is  an  authentic  document. 


84 

Seeing  you  lend  these  infamous  words  your  ears. 

SCHNETZEN.     Consider,  gentlemen  of  Nordhausen, 
Ere  ye  give  heed  to  the  rash  partisan. 
Ye  cross  the  Landgrave— well?  he  crosses  you. 
It  may  be  I  shall  ride  to  Nordhausen, 
Not  with  a  harmless  script,  but  with  a  sword, 
And  so  denounce  the  town  for  perjured  vow. 
What  was  the  Strasburg  citizens'  reward 
Who  championed  these  lost  wretches,  in  the  face 
Of  King  and  Kaiser— three  against  the  world, 
Conrad  von  Winterthur  the  Burgomaster, 
Deputy  Gosse  Sturm,  and  Peter  Schwarber, 
Master  mechanic?     These  leagued  fools  essayed 
To  stand  between  the  people's  sacred  wrath, 
And  its  doomed  object.     Well,  the  Jews,  no  less, 
Were  rooted  from  the  city  neck  and  crop, 
And  their  three  friends  degraded  from  their  rank 
I'  the  city  council,  glad  to  save  their  skins. 
The  Jews  are  foes  to  God.     Our  Holy  Father 
Thunders  his  ban  from  Rome  against  all  such 
As  aid  the  poisoners.     Your  oath  to  God, 
And  to  the  Prince  enjoins — Death  to  the  Jews. 

A  BURGHER.     (Rtinhard  Rolapp.}    Why  all  this  vaia  debate?  The 

Landgrave's  brief 

Affirms  the  Jews  fling  poison  in  the  wells. 
Shall  we  stand  by  and  leave  then*  urf molested, 
Till  they  have  made  our  town  a  wilderness? 
I  say,  Death  to  the  Jews} 

A  BURGHEk.     (Htigo  Schultz.Wy  lord  and  brethren, 
I  have  scant  gift  of  speech,  ye  are  all  my  elders. 
Yet  hear  me  for  truth's  sake,  and  liberty's. 
The  Landgrave  of  Thuringia  is  our  patron, 
True — and  our  town's  imperial  Governor, 
But  are  we  not  free  burghers?     Shall  we  not 
Debate  and  act  in  freedom?     If  Lord  Schnetzen 
Will  force  our  council  with  the  sword — enough! 
We  are  mrt  frightened  schoolboys  crouched  beneath 
The  master's  rod,  but  men  who  bear  the  sword 
As  brave  as  he.     By  this  grim  messenger, 
Send  back  this  devilish  missive.     Say  to  Frederick 
Nordhausen  never  was  enfeoffed  to  him. 
Prithee,  Lord  President,  bid  Henry  Schnetzen 
Withdraw  awhile,  that  we  may  all  take  counsel 
According  to  the  hour's  necessity. 
As  free  men,  whom  nor   fear  nor  favor  swerves 

TETTENBORN.     Bold  youth,  you  err      Trn*.    MO-^I,  •    r 

And  God  be  witness,  we  for  few  or  favor         '  Nordhausen  's  free> 


35 

Would  never  shed  the  blood  of  innocence. 

But  here  the  Prince  condemns  the  Jews  to  death    • 

For  capital  crime.     Who  sees  a  snake  must  kill, 

Ere  it  spit  fatal  venom.     I,  too,  say 

Death  to  the  Jews! 

ALL.     Death  to  the  Jews!     God  wills  it! 

TETTENBORN.     Give  me  your  voices  in  the  urn. 
( The  votes  are  taken. )          One  voice 

For  mercy,  all  the  rest  for  death.  (  To  an  usher.}    Go  thou 
To  the  Jews'  quarter;  bid  Susskind  von  Orb, 
And  Rabbi  Jacob  hither  to  the  Senate, 

To  hear  the  Landgrave's  and  the  town's  decree.    (Exit  Usher.} 
( To  Schnetzen.}  What  learn  you  of  this  evil  through  the  State? 

SCHNETZEN.     It  swells  to  monstrous  bulk.     In  many  towns, 
Folk  build  high  ramparts,  round  the  wells  and  springs. 
In  some  they  shun  the  treacherous   sparkling  brooks, 
To  drink  dull  rain-water,  or  melted  snow, 
In  mountain  districts.     Frederick  has  been  patient, 
And  too  long  clement,  duped  by  fleece-cloaked  wolves. 
But  now  his  subjects'  clamor  rouses  him 
To  front  the  general  peril.     As  I  hear, 
A  fiendish  and  far-reaching  plot  involves 
All  Christian  thrones  and  peoples.     These  vile  vermin, 
Burrowing  underneath  society, 
Have  leagued  with  Moors  m  Spain,  with  heretics 
Too  plentiful — Christ  knows!  in  every  land, 
And  planned  a  subterraneous,  sinuous  scheme, 
To  overthrow  all  Christendom.     But  see, 
Where  with  audacious  brows,  and  steadfast  mien. 
They  enter,  bold  as  innocence.     Now  listen, 
For  we  shall  hear  brave  falsehoods. 

(Enter  Susskind  von  Orb  and  Rabbi  Jacob.) 

TETTENBORN.  Rabbi  Jacob, 

And  thou,  Susskind  von  Orb,  bow  down,  and  learn 
The  Council's  pleasure.     You  the  least  despised 
By  true  believers,  and  most  reverenced 
By  your  own  tribe,  we  grace  with  our  free  leave 
To  enter,  yea,  to  lift  your  voices  here, 
Amid  these  wise  and  honorable  men, 
If  ye  find  aught  to  plead,  that  mitigates 
The  just  severity  of  your  doom.     Our  Prince, 
Frederick  the  Grave,  Patron  of  Nordhausen. 
Ordains  that  all  the  Jews  within  his  lands, 
For  the  foul  crime  of  poisoning  the  wells, 
Bringing  the  Black  Death  upon  Christendom, 
Shall  be  consumed  with  flame. 

RABBI  JACOB.     (Springing  forward  and  clasping  his  hands},  I'  the 
Name  of  God, 


Your  God  and  ours,  have  mercy! 

SUSSKIND.  Noble  lords, 

Burghers  and  artisans  of  Nordhausen, 
Wise,  honorable,  just,  God-fearing-  men, 
Shall  ye  condemn  or  ever  ye  have  heard? 
Sure,  one  at  least  owns  here  the  close,  kind  name 
Of  Brother — unto  him  I  turn.     At  least 
Some  sit  among  you  who  have  wedded  wives, 
Bear  the  dear  title  and  the  precious  charge 
f  husband— unto  these  I  speak.     Some  here, 

/        re  crowned,  it  may  be,  with  the  sacred  name 
Of  Father — unto  these  I  pray.     All,  all 
Are  sons — all  have  been  children,  all  have  known 
The  love  of  parents — unto  these  I  cry: 
Have  mercy  on  us,  we  are  innocent, 
Who  are  brothers,  husbands,  fathers,  sons  as  ye! 
Look  you,  we  have  dwelt  among  you  many  years, 
Led  thrifty,  peaceable,  well-ordered  lives. 
Who  can  attest,  who  prove  we  ever  wrought 
Or  ever  did  devise  the  smallest  harm, 
Far  less  this  fiendish  crime  against  the  State? 
Rather  let  those  arise  who   owe  the  Jews 
Some  debt  of  unpaid  kindness,  profuse  alms, 
The  Hebrew  leech's  serviceable  skill, 
Who  know  our  patience  under  injury, 
And  ye  would  see,  if  all  stood  bravely  forth, 
A  motley  host,  led  by  the  Landgrave's  self, 
Recruited  frotn  all  ranks,  and  in  the  rear, 
The  humblest,  veriest  wretch  in  Nordhausen. 
We  know  the  Black  Death  is  a  scourge  of  God. 
Is  not  our  flesh  as  capable  of  pain, 
Our  blood  as  quick  envenomed  as  your  own? 
Has  the  Destroying  Angel  passed 'the  posts 
Of  Jewish  doors— to  visit  Christian  homes? 
We  all  are  slaves  of  one  tremen  ious  Hour. 
We  drink' the  waters  which  our  enemies  say 
We  spoil  with  poison, — we  must  breathe,  as  ye, 
The  universal  air,— we  dro-,p,  faint,  sicken, 
From  the  same  causes  to  the  selfsame  end. 
Ye  are  not  strangers  to  me,  though  ye  wear 
Grim  masks  to-day— lords,  knights  and  citizens, 
Few  do  I  see  whose  hand  has  pressed  not  mine, 
In  cordial  greeting,     Dietrich  von  Tettenborn, 
If  at  my  death,  my  wealth  be  confiscate 
Unto  the  State,  Lethink  you,  lest  she  prove 
A  harsher  creditor  than  I  have  been. 
Stout  Meister  Rolapp,  may  you  never  again 
Languish  so  nigh  to  death  that  Simon's  art 


37 

Be  needed  to  restore  your  lusty  limbs. 
Good  Hugo  Schultz— ah  !  be  those  blessed  tears 
Remembered  unto  you  in  Paradise! 
Look  there,  my  lords,  one  of  your  council   weeps, 
Lf  you  be  men,   why.  then  an  angel  sits 
On  yonder  bench.     You  have  good  cause  to  weep, 
You  who  are  Christian,  and  disgraced  in  that 
Whereof  you  made  your  boast.     I  have  no  tears. 
A  fiery  wrath  has  scorched  their  source,  a  voice 
Shrills  through  my  brain— "  Not  upon  us,  on  them 
Fall  everlasting  woe,  if  this  thing  be!" 

/SCHNETZEN.     My  lords  of  Nordhausen,  shall  ye  be  stunned 
With  sounding  words.''     Behold  the  serpent's  skin, 
Sleek-shining,  clear  as  sunlight;  yet  his  tooth 
Holds  deadly  poison.      Even  as  the  Jews 
Did  nail  the  Lord  of  heaven  on  the  Cross. 
So  will  they  murder  all  his  followers. 
When   once  they  have  the  might.     Beware,  beware! 

SUSSKIND.     So  you  are  the  accuser,  my  lord  Schnetzen? 
Now   I  confess,  before  you  I  am  -guilty. 
You  are  in  all  this  presence,  the  one  man 
Whom  any  Jew  hath  wronged— and  1  that  Jew. 
Oh,  my  offence  is  grievous;  punish  me 
With  the  utmost  rigor  of  the  law,  for  theft 
And  violence,  whom  ye  deemed  an  honest  man. 
But  leave  my  tribe  unharmed!     I  yield  my  hands 
Unto  your  chains,  my  body  to  your  fires; 
Let  one  life  serve  for  all. 

SCHNETZEN.     You  hear,  my  lords, 
How  the  prevaricating  villain  shrinks 
From  the  absolute  truth,  yet  dares  not  front  his  Maker 
With  the  full  damnable  lie  hot  on  his  lips. 
Not  ti  ou  alone,  my  private  foe   shalt  die, 
But  all  thy  race.     Thee  had  my  vengeance  reached, 
Without  appeal  to  Prince  or  citizen. 
Silence!   my  heart  is  cuirassed  as  my  breast. 

RABBI   JACOB.     Bear  with  us,  gracious  lords!  My  friend  is  stunned. 
He  is  an  honest  man.     Even  I,  as  'twere, 
Am  stupefied  by  this  surprising  news. 
Yet,  let  me  think— it  seems  it  is  not  new, 
This  is  an  ancient,  well-remembered  pain. 
What,  brother,  came  not  one  who  prophesied 
This  should  betide  exactly  as  it  doth? 
That  was  a  shrewd  old  man!     Your  pardon,  lords, 
I  think  you  know  not  just  what  you  would  do. 
You  say  the  Jews  shall  burn— shall  burn  you  say; 
Why,  good  my  lords,  the  Jews  are  not  a  flock 
Of  gallows-birds,  they  are  a  colony 


OQ 

'JO 

« 

Of  kindly,  virtuous  folk.      Come  home   with  me; 
I'll  show  you  happy  hearths,  glad  roofs,  pure  lives. 
Why,  some  of  them  are  little  quick-eyed  boys. 
Some,  pretty,  ungrown  maidens^— children's  children 
Of  those  who  called  me  to  the  pastorate. 
And  some  are  beautiful    tall  girls,  some,  youths 
Of  marvelous  promise,   some  are  old  and  sick, 
Amongst  them  there  be  mothers,  infants,   brides, 
Just  like  your  Christian  people,  for  all  the  world. 
Know  ye  what  burning  is?     Hath  one  of  you, 
Scorched  ever  his  sofi  flesh,  or  singed  his  beard, 
His  hair,  his  eyebrows — felt  the  keen,  fierce  nip 
Of  the  pungent  flame — and  raises  not  his  voice 
To  stop  this  holocaust?     God!   'tis  too  horrible! 
Wake  me,  my  friends,  from  this  terrific  dream. 

SUSSKIND.      Courage,  my  brother.     On  our  firmness  hangs 
The  dignity  of  Israel.      Sir   Governor, 
I  have  a  secret  word  to  speak   with  you. 

SCHNETZEN.     Ye  shall  enjoy  with  me  the  jest.      These  knaves 
Are  apt  in  quick  invention  as  in  crime* 
Speak  out — I  have  no  secrets  from  my  peers. 

SUSSKIND.      My  lord,  what  answer  would  you  give  your  Christ 
If  peradventure,  in  this  general  doom 
You  sacrifice  a  Christian?     Some  strayed  dove 
Lost  from  your  cote,  among  our  vultures  caged? 
Beware,  for  midst  our  virgins  there  is  one 
Owes  kinship  nor  allegiance  to  our  tribe. 
For  her  dear  sake  be  pitiful,   my  lords. 
Have  mercy  on  our  women!     Spare   at  least 
My  daughter  Liebhaid,  she  is  none  of  mine! 
She  is  a  Christian! 

SCHNETZEN.     just  as  I  foretold! 
The  wretches  will  forswear  the  sacred'st  ties, 
Cringing  for  life.,    Serpents,  ye  all  shall  die. 
So  wills  the  Landgrave;  so  the  court  affirms. 
Your  daughter  shall  be  first,  whose  wanton  arts 
Have  brought  destruction  on  a  princely  house. 

SUSSKIND.     My  lord,  be  moved.      You  kill  your  flesh  and  blood. 
By  Adonai  I   swear,  your  dying  wife, 
Entrusted  to  these  arms  her  child.     'Twas  I 
Carried  your  infant  from  your  burning  home. 
Lord  Schnetzen,  will  you  murder  your  own  child? 

SCHNETZEN.      Ha.  excellent!      I  was  awaiting  this 
Thou  wilt  inoculate  our  knightly  veins 
With  thy  corrupted  Jewish  blood.      Thou'lt  foist 
This  adder  on   my  bosom.     Henry  Schnetzen 
Is  no  weak  dupe,  whom  every  lie  may  start. 
Make  ready,  Jew,  for  death — and  warn  thy  tribe. 


39 

SUSSKIND.     (kneeling.)    Is  ther.e  a  God   in  he'aven?     I  who  ne'er 

knelt 

Until  this  hour  to  any  man  on  earth, 
Tyrant,  before  thee  1  abase  myself. 
If  one  red  drop  of  human  blood  still  flow 
In  thy  congealed  veins,  if  thou  e'er  have  known 
Touch  of  affection,  the  blind  natural  instinct 
Of  common  kindred,  even  beasts  partake 
Thou  man  of  frozen  stone,  thou  hollow  statue, 
Grant  me  one  prayer,  that  thou  wilt  look  on  her. 
Then  shall  the  eyes  of  thy  dead  wife  gaze  back 
From  out  the  maiden's  orbs,  then  shall  a  voice 
Within  thine  entrails,  cry — This  is  my  child. 

SCHNETZEN.     Enough!     I  pray  you,  my  lord  President, 
End  this  unseemly  scene.      This  wretched  Jew 
Would  thrust  a  cuckoo's  egg  within  my  nest. 
I  have  had  timely  warning.      Send  the  twain 
Back  to  their  people,  that  the  court's  decree 
Be  published  unto  all. 

SUSSKIND.  Lord  Tettenborn! 

Citizens!  will  you  see  this  nameless  crime 
Brand  the  clean  earth,  blacken  the  crystal  heaven? 
Why,  no  man  stirs!     God!  with  what  thick  strange  fumes 
Hast  thou,         o'  the  sudden,  biutalized  their  sense? 
Or  am  I  mad?     Is  this  already  hell? 
Worshipful  fiends,  I  have  good  store  of  gold, 
Packed  in  my  coffers,  or  loaned  out  to — Christians; 
I  give  it  you  as  free  as  night  bestows 

Her  copious  dews — my  life  shall  seal  the  bond, 

Have  mercy  on  my  race! 

TETTENBORN.  No  more,  no  more! 

Go,  bid  your  tribe  make  ready  for  their  death 

At  sunset. 
•RABB  JACOB.     Oh! 
SUSSKIND.     At  set  of  sun  to-day? 

Why,  if  you  traveled  to  the  nighest  town, 

Summoned  to  stand  before  a  mortal  Prince, 

You  would  need  longer  grace  to  put  in  order 

Household  effects,  to  bid  farewell  to  friends, 

And  make  yourself  rght  worthy.     But  our  way 

Is  long,  our  journey  difficult,  our  Judge 

Of  awhil  majesty.     Must  we  =et  forth, 

Haste-flushed  and  unprepared?     One  brief  day  more, 

And  all  my  wealth  is  yours! 

TETTENBORN.  We  have  heard  enough. 

Begone,  and  bear  our  message. 

SUSSKIND.  Courage,  brother. 

Our  fate  is  sealed.     These  tigers  are  athirst. 


40 

Return  we  to  our  people  to  proclaim. 
The  gracious  sentence  of  the  noble  court. 
Let  us  go  thank  the  Lord  who  made  us  those 
To  suffer,  not  to  do,  this  deed.     Be  strong. 
So!  lean  on  me — we  have  little  time  to  lose. 

(Exeunt.) 

END   OF   ACT  FOURTH. 


ACT   V. 
SCENE  I,     A  Ro6m  inSiisskind's  House.     LIEJJHAID,  CLAIRE,  REUBEN. 

LlEBHAlD.     The  air  hangs  sultry  as  in  mid-July. 
Look  forth,  Claire;   moves  not  some  big  thunder-cloud 
Athwart  the  sky?     My  heart  is  sick. 

CLAIRE.  Nay,  Liebhaid. 

The  clear  May  sun  is  shining,  and  the  air 
Blows  fresh  and  cordial  from  the  budding  hills. 

LlEBHAlD.     Reuben,  what  is  't  o'clock.     Our  father  stays. 
The  midday  meal  was  cold  an  hour  agone, 

REUBEN.     'Tis  two  full  hours  past  noon:  h'e  should  be  here. 
Ah  see,  he  comes.     Great  God!  what  wee  has  chanced? 
He  totters  on  his  staff;  he  has  grown  old 
Since  he  went  forth  this  morn. 

Enter  SUSSKIND.) 

LlEBHAlD.  Father,  what  news? 

SUSSKIND.     The  Lord  have  mercy!     Vain  is  the  help  of  man. 
Children,  is  all  in  order?     We  must  start 
At  set  of  sun  on  a  long  pilgrimage. 
So  wills  the  Landgrave,  so  the  court  decrees. 

LlEBHAlD.       What  is  it,  father?     Exile? 

SUSSKIND.  Yea,  just  that. 

We  are  banished  from  our  vexed,  uncertain  homes, 
'Midst  foes  and  strangers,  to  a  land  of  peace, 
Where  joy  abides,  where  only  comfort  is. 
Banished  from  care,  fear,  trouble,  life — to  death. 

REUBEN.     Oh  horror!  horror!     Father,  I  will  not  die. 
Come,  let  us  flee — we  yet  have  time  for  flight. 
I'll  bribe  the  sentinel — he  will  ope  the  gates 
Liebhaid,  Claire,  Father!     let  us  flee!     Away 
To  some  safe  land  where  we  may  nurse  revenge. 

SUSSKIND.     Courage,  my  son,  and  peace.     We  may  not  flee. 
Didst  thou  not  see  the  spies  who   dogged  my  steps? 
The  gates  are  thronged  with  citizens  and  guards. 
We  must  not  flee  — God  wills  that  we  should  die. 


41 

LIEBHAID.     Said  you  at  sunset? 

SUSSKIND.  So  they  have  decreed. 

CLAIRE.     Oh  why  not  now?     Why  spare  the  time  to  warn? 
Why  came  they  not  with  thee  to  massacre, 
Leaving  no  agony  betwixt  the   sentence 
And  instant  execution?     That  were  mercy! 
Oh,  my  prophetic  father! 

SUSSKIND.  They  allow 

Full  five  hours'  grace  to  shrive  our  souls  with  prayer. 
We  shall  assemble  in  the  Synagogue, 
As  on  Atonement  Day,  confess  our  sins, 
Recite  the  Kaddish  for  the  Dead,  and  chant 
Our  Shibboleth,  the  Unity  of  God, 
Until  the  supreme  hour  when  we  shall  stand 
Before  the  mercy-seat. 

LIEBHAID.     In  what  dread  shape  . 
.  Approaches  death? 

SUSSKIND.  Nerve  your  young   hearts,  my  children. 

We  shall  go  down  as  God's  three  servants  went 
Into  the  fiery  furnace.     Not  again 
Shall  the  flames  spare  the  true-believers'  flesh. 
The  anguish  shall  be  fierce  and  strong,  yet  brief. 
Our  spirits  shall  not  know  the  touch  of  pain, 
Pure  as  refined  gold  they  shall  issue  safe 
From  the  hot  crucible;  a  pleasing  sight 
Unto  the  Lord.     Oh,  'tis  a  rosy  bed 
Where  we  shall  couch,  compared  with  that  whereon 
They  lie  who  kindle  this  accursed  blaze. 
Ye  shrink?  ye  would  avert  your  martyred  brows 
From  the  immortal  crowns  the  angels  offer? 
What!  are  we  Jews  and  are  afraid  of  death? 
jGod's  chosen  people,  shall  we  stand  a-tremble 
'Before  our  Father,  as  the   Gentiles  use? 

REUBEN.     Shall  the  smoke  choke  us,  father?  or  the  flame 
Consume  our  flesh? 

SUSSKIND.     I  know  not,  boy.     Be  sure 
The  Lord  will  temper  the  shrewd  pain  for  those 
Who  trust  in  Him. 

REUBEN.     May  I  stand  by  thy  side, 
And  hold  my  hand  in  thine  until  the  end? 

SUSSKIND.     (<Z5iV£r.)What  solace  hast  thou,  God,  in  all  thy  heavens 
For  such  an  hour  as  this?     Yea.  hand  in  hand 
We  walk,  my  son,  through  fire,  to  meet  the  Lord. 
Yet  there  is  one  among  us  shall  not  burn. 
A  secret  shaft  long  rankling  in  my  heart, 
Now  I  withdraw,  and  die.     Our  general  doom, 
Liebhaid,  is  not  for  thee.     Thou  art  no  Jewess. 


42 

Thy  father  is  the  man  who  wills  our  death; 
Lord  Henry  Schnetzen. 

LlEBHAlD.         Look  at  me!   your  eyes 
Are  sane,  correcting  your  distracted  words. 
This  is  Love's  trick,  to  rescue  me  from  death. 
My  love  is  firm  as  thine,  and  dies  with  thee. 

CLAIRE.     Oh,  Liebhaid,  live.     Hast  thou  forgot  the  Prince  ? 
Think  of  the  happy  summer  blooms  for  thee 
When  we  are  in  our  graves. 

LIEBHAID.  And  I  shall  smile, 

Live  and  rejoice  in  love,  when  ye  are  dead? 

SUSSKIND.     My  child,  my  child!     By  the  Ineffable  Name, 
The  Adonai,   I  swear,  thou  must  believe, 
Albeit  thy  father  scoffed,  gave  me  the  lie. 
Go  kneel  to  him—  for  if  he  see  thy  face, 
Or  hear  thy  voice,  he  shall  not  doubt,,  but  save. 

LlEBHAlD.     Never!     If  I  be  offspring  to  that  kite, 
I  here  deny  my  race,  forsake  my  father,— 
So  does  thy  dream  fall  true.     Let  him  save  thee, 
Whose  hand  has  guided  mine,  whose  lips  have  blessed, 
Whose  bread  has  nourished  me.     Thy  God  is  mine, 
Thy  people  are  my  people. 

VOICES  (without}.      Susskind   von  Orb! 

SUSSKIND.      I  come,  my  friends. 

(Enter  boisterously  certain  Jews.) 

1ST  JEW.  Come  to  the  house  of  God! 

2D  JEW.     Wilt  thou  desert  us  for  whose  sake  we  perish? 

30  JEW.     The  awful  hour  draws  nigh.     Come  forth  with  us 
Unto  the  Synagogue. 

SUSSKIND.  Bear  with  me,   neighbors. 

Here  we  may  weep,  here  for  the  last  time  know 
The  luxury  of  sorrow,  the  soft  touch 
Ot  natural  tenderness;  here  our  hearts  may  break; 
Yonder  no  tears,  no  faltering!     Eyes  serene 
Lifted  to  heaven,  and  defiant  brows 
To  those  who  have  usurped  the  name  of  men, 
Must  prove  our  faith  and  valor  limitless 
As  is  their  cruelty.     One  more  embrace, 
My  daughter,  thrice  my  daughter!  Thine  affection 
Outshines  the  hellish  flames  of  hate;  farewell, 
But  for  a  while;  beyond  the  river  of  fire 
I'll  fold  thee  in  mine  arms,  immortal  angel! 
For  thee,  poor  orphan,  soon  to  greet  again 
The  blessed  brows  of  parents,  I  dreamed  not 
The  grave  was  all  the  home  I  had  to  give. 
Go  thou  with  Liebhaid,  and  array  yourselves 
As  for  a  bridal.      Come,  little  son,  with  me. 


43 

Friends,  I  am  ready.    Oh,  my  God,  my  God, 
Forsake  us  not  in  our  extremity! 

(Exeunt  Siisskind  and  Jews.) 

SCENE  II. — A  Street  in  the  Judengasse.  Several  Jews  pass  across  the  stage,  running 
and  with  gestures  of  distress. 

JEWS.     Woe,  woe!  the  curse  has  fallen!   (Exeunt] 

(Enter  other  Jews.) 

1ST  JEW.     We  are  doomed. 
The  fury  of  the  Lord  has  smitten  us. 
Oh  that  mine  head  were  waters  and  mine  eyes 
Fountains  of  tears!*     God  has  forsaken  us. 

(They  knock  at  the  doors  of  the  houses.) 

20  JEW.     What,  Benjamin!  Open  the  door  to  death! 
We  all  shall  die  at  sunset!     Menachem! 
Come  forth!   Come  forth!     Manasseh!     Daniel!     Ezra! 

(Jews  appear  at  the  windows.) 
ONE  CALLING  FROM  ABOVE.     Neighbors,  what  wild   alarm  is  this? 

1ST  JEW.  Descend! 

Descend!  Come  with  us  to  the  house  of  prayer. 
Save  himself  whoso  can!  we  all  shall  burn. 

(Men  and  women  appear  at  the  doors  of  the  houses.) 

ONE  OF  THE  MEN  AT  THE  DOOR.     Beseech  you  brethren,  calmly! 

Tell  us  all! 

Mine  aged  father  lies  at  point  of  death 
Gasping  within.     Ye'll  thrust  him  in  his  grave 
With  boisterous  clamor.. 

1ST  JEW.  Blessed  is  the  man 

Whom  the  Lord  calls  unto  Himself  in  peace! 
Siisskind  von  Orb  and  Rabbi  Jacob  come 
From  the  tribunal  where  the  vote  is — Death 
To  all  our  race. 

SEVERAL  Voices.     Woe!   woe!  God  pity  us! 

1ST  JEW.      Hie  ye  within,  and  take  a  last  farewell 
Of  home,  love,  life — put  on  your  festal  robes. 
So  wills  the  Rabbi,  and  come  forth  at  once 
To  pray  till  sunset  in  the   Synagogue. 

AN  OLD  MAN.     Oh  God!     Is  this  the  portion  of  mine  age? 
Were  my  white  hairs,  my  old  bones  spared  for  this? 
Oh  cruel,  cruel! 

A   YOUNG  GlRL.  I  am  too  young  to  die. 

Save  me,  my  father!     To-morrow  should  have  been 
The  feast  at  Rachel's  house.      I  longed  for  that, 
Counted  the  days,  dreaded  some  trivial  chance 
Might  cross  my  pleasure  — Lo,  this  horror  comes  ! 

*  Jeremiah  ix.  i. 


44 

A  BRIDE.     Oh  love!  oh  thou  just-tasted  cup  of  joy 
Snatched  from  my  lips!.    Shall  we  twain  lie  with  death, 
Dark,  silent,  cold — whose  every  sense  was  tuned 
To  happiness!     Life  was  too  beautiful — 
That  was  the  dream— how  soon  we  are  awake! 
Ah,  we  have  that  within  our  hearts  defies 
Their  fiercest  flames.     No  end,  no  end,  no  end! 

JEW.       *God  with  a  mighty  hand,  a  stretched-out  arm, 
And  poured-out  fury,  ruleth  over  us. 
The  sword  is  furbished,  sharp  i'  the  slayer's  hand. 
Cry  out  and  howl  thou  son  of  Israel! 
Thou  shalt  be  fuel  to  the  fire;  thy  blood 
Shall  overflow  the  land,  and  thou  no  more 
Shalt  be  remembered— so  the  Lord  hath  spoken. 

(Exeunt  omnes.) 

SCENE  III.- Within  the  Synagogue.     Above  in  the  Gallery,  women  sumptuously 
attired;  some  with  children  by  the  hand  or  infants  in  their  arms.    Below  the  men 
and  boys  with  silken  scarfs  about  their  shoulders. 
RABBI  JACOB.  tThe  Lord  is  nigh  unto  the  broken  heart. 

Out  of  the  depths  we  cry  to  thee,  oh  God  ! 
Show  us  the  path  of  everlasting  life  ; 
For  in  thy  presence  is  the  plenitude 
Of  joy,  and  in  thy  right  hand  endless  bliss. 

(Enter  Susskind,   Reuben,  etc.) 

SEVERAL  VOICES.     Woe  unto  us  who  perish  ! 
A  JEW.  Siisskind  von  Orb, 

Thou  hast  brought  down  this  doom.     Would  we  had  heard 
The  prophet's  voice  ! 

SUSSKIND.  Brethren,  my  cup  is  full ! 

Oh  let  us  die  as  warriors  of  the  Lord. 
The  Lord  is  great  in  Zion.     Let  our  death 
Bring  no  reproach  to  Jacob,  no  rebuke 
To  Israel.      Hark  ye  !  let  us  crave  one  boon 
At  our  assassins'  hands  ;  beseech  them  build 
Within  God's  acre  where  our  fathers  sleep, 
A  dancing-floor  to  hide  the  fagots  stacked. 
Then  let  the  minstrels  strike  the  harp  and  lute, 
And  we  will  dance  and  sing  above  the  pile, 
Fearless  of  death,  until  the  flames  engulf, 
Even  as  David  danced  before  the  Lord, 
As  Miriam  danced  and  sang  beside  the  sea. 
Great  is  our  Lord  !    His  name  is  glorious 
In  Judah,  and  extolled  in  Israel  ! 
In  Salem  is  his  tent,  his  dwelling  place 
In  Zion  ;  let  us  chant  the  praise  of  God  ! 

A  JEW.     Susskind,  thou  speakest  well      We  will  meet  death 

*   Ezekiel  xx.  33;  xxi.  11-32- 

t  Service  for  Day  of  Atonement. 


/  45 

With  dance  and  song.  Embrace  him  as  a  bride. 
So  that  the  Lord  receive  us  in  His  tent. 

SEVERAL  VOICES.     Amen  !  amen  !  amen  !  we  dance  to  death  ! 

RABBI  JACOB.     Siisskind,  go  forth  and  beg  this  grace  of  them. 

(Exit  Siisskind.) 

Punish  us  not  in  wrath,  chastise  us  not 
In  anger,  oh  our  God  !     Our  sins  o'erwhelm 
Our  smitten  heads,  they  are  a  grievous  load  ; 
We  look  on  our  iniquities,  we  tremble, 
Knowing  our  trespasses.     Forsake  us  not. 
Be  thou  not  far  from  us.      Haste  to  our  aid, 
Oh  God,  who  art  our  Saviour  and  our  Rock  ! 

(Re-enter  Siisskind.) 

S'JSSKiND.     Brethren,  our  prayer,  being  the  last,  is  granted. 
The  hour  approaches.     Let  our  thoughts  ascend 
From  mortal  anguish,  to  the  ecstasy 
Of  martyrdom,  the  blessed  death  of  those 
Who  perish  in  the  Lord.     I  see,  I  see 
How  Israel's  ever-crescent  glory  makes 
These  flames  that  would  eclipse  it,  dark  as  blots 
Of  candlelight  against  the  blazing  sun. 
We  die  a  thousand  deaths, — drown,  bleed  and  burn; 
Our  ashes  are  dispersed  unto  the  winds. 
Yet  the  wild  winds  cherish  the  sacred  seed, 
The  waters  guard  it  in  their  crystal  heart, 
The  fire  refuseth  to  consume.      It  springs* 
A  tree  immortal,  shadowing  many  lands,  j 
Unvisited,  unnamed,  undreamed,  as  yet.  | 
Rather  a  vine,  full-flowered,  golden-branched, 
Ambrosial-fruited,  creeping  on  the  earth, 
Trod  by  the  passer's  foot,  yet  chosen  to  deck 
Tables  of  princes.     Israel  now  has  fallen 
Into  the  depths,  he  shall  be  great  in  time.t 
Even  as  we  die  in  honor,  from  our  death 
Shall  bloom  a  myriad  heroic  lives. 
Brave  through  our  bright  example,  virtuous. 
Lest  our  great  memory  fall  in  disrepute. 
Is  one  among  us,  brothers,  would  exchange 
His  doom  against  ou»  tyrants,  — lot  for  lot  ? 
Let  him  go  forth  and  live — he  is  no  Jew. 
•  Is  one  who  would  not  die  in  Israel 
k  Rather  than  live  in  Christ, — their  Christ  who  smiles 
/     On  such  a  deed  as  this  ?     Let  him  go  forth  — 
/     He  may  die  full  of  years  upon  his  bed. 
Ye  who  nurse  rancor  haply  in  your  hearts, 
Fear  ye  we  perish  unavenged  ?     Not  so  ! 

t  The  vine  creeps  on  the  earth,  trodden  by  the  passer's  foot,  but  its  fruit  goes  up 
on  the  table  of  princes  Israel  now  has  fallen  in  the  depths,  but  he  shall  be  great 
in  the  fulness  of  time. — TALMUD. 


46 

To-day,  no  !  nor  to-morrow !  but  in  God's  time, 

Our  witnesses  arise.     Ours  is  the  truth, 

Ours  is  the  power,  the  gift  of  Heaven.     We  hold 

His  Law,  His  lamp.  His  covenant,  His  pledge. 

Wherever  in  the  ages  shall  arise 

Jew-priest,  Jew-poet,  Jew-singer,  or  Jew-saint — 

And  everywhere  I  see  them  star  the  gloom — 

In  each  of  these  the  martyrs  are  avenged  ! 

RABBI  JACOB.     Bring  from  the  ark,  the  bell-fringed,   silken-bound 
Scrolls  of  the  Law.     Gather  the  silver  vessels, 
Dismantle  the  rich  curtains  of  the  doors, 
Bring  the  perpetual  lamp  ;   all  these  shall  burn, 
For  Israel's  light  is  darkened,  Israel's  Law 
Profaned  by  strangers.     Thus  the  Lord  hath  said  : 
"*The  weapon  formed  against  thee  shall  not  prosper, 
The  tongue  that  shall  contend  with  thee  in  judgment, 
Thou  shalt  condemn.      This  is  the  heritage 
Of  the  Lord's  servants  and  their  righteousness. 
For  thou  shalt  come  to  peoples  yet  unborn, 
Declaring  that  which  He  hath  done.     Amen  !  " 

(  The  doors  of  the  Synagogue  are  burst  open  with  tumultuous  noise.     Citizens  and 
officers  rush  in.) 

CITIZENS.      Come  forth  !  the  sun  sets.      Come,  the  Council  waits! 
What  !  will  ye  teach  your  betters  patience  ?     Out  ! 
The  Governor  is  ready.      Forth  with  you, 
Curs  !  serpents  !  Judases  !     The  bonfire  burns  ! 

[Exeunt] 
SCENE  IV. — A  Public  Place.     Crowds  of  citizens  assembled.     On  a  platform   are 

seated  DIETRICH  VON  TETTENBORN  and  HENRY  SCHNETZEN  with  other  members 

of  the  Council. 

1ST  CITIZEN.     Here's  such  a  throng!    Neighbor,  your  elbow   makes 
An  ill  prod  for  my  ribs. 

2D  CITIZEN.  I  am  pushed  and  squeezed. 

My  limbs  are  not  mine  own. 

3D  CITIZEN.  Look  this  way,  wife. 

They  will  come  hence, — a  pack  of  just-whipped  curs. 
I  warrant  you  the  stiff-necked  brutes  repent 
To-day  if  ne'er  before. 

WIFE.  I  am  all  a-quiver. 

I  have  seen  monstrous  sights, — an  uncaged  wolf, 
The  corpse  of  one  sucked  by  a  vampyre, 
The  widow  Kupfen's  malformed  child — but  never 
Until  this  hour,  a  Jew. 

3D  CITIZEN.  D'ye  call  me  Jew  ? 

Where  do  you  spy  one  now  ? 

WIFE.  You'll  have  your  jest 

Now  or  anon,  what  matters  it  ? 

4TH  CITIZEN.  Well,  I 

*  Conclusion  of  service  for  Day  of  Atonement. 


47 

Have  seen  a  Jew,  and  seen  one  burn  at  that ; 
Hard  by  in  Wartburg  ;  he  had  killed  a  child. 
Zounds  !  how  the  serpent  wriggled  !     I  smell  now 
The  roasting,  stinking  flesh  ! 

BOY.  Father,  be  these 

The  folk  who  murdered  Jesus  ?  . . 

4TH  CITIZEN.  Ay,  my  boy. 

Remember  that,  and  when  you  hear  them  come, 
I'll  lift  you  on  my  shoulders.      You  can  fling 
Your  pebbles  with  the  rest. 

(Trumpets  sound.) 

CITIZENS.  The  Jews!  the  Jews  ! 

BOY.      Quick,  father  !   lift  me  !     I  see  nothing  here 
But  hose  and  skirts. 

(Music  of  a  march  approaching). 

CITIZENS.      What  mummery  is  this  ? 
The  sorcerers  brew  new  mischief. 

ANOTHER  CITIZEN.  Why,  they  come 

Pranked  for  a  holiday;  not  veiled  for  death. 

ANOTHER  CITIZEN.     Insolent  braggarts  !     They  defy  the  Christ  ! 

(Enter  in  procession  to  music  the  Jews.  First  RABBI  JACOB — after  him,  sick  peo 
ple  carried  on  litters— then,  old  men  and  women,  followed  promiscuously  by  men, 
women  and  children  ot  all  ages.  Some  of  the  men  carry  gold  and  silver  vessels, 
some  the  Rolls  of  the  Law.  One  bears  the  Perpetual  Lamp,  another  the  seven- 
branched  silver  candle-stick  of  the  Synagogue.  The  mothers  have  their  children  by 
the  hand  or  in  their  arms.  All  richly  attired.) 

CITIZENS.     The  misers  !  they  will  take  their  gems  and  gold 
Down  to  the  grave  ! 

CITIZEN'S  WIFE.          So  these  be  Jews  !     Christ  save  us  ! 
To  think  the  devils  look  like  human  folk  ! 

CITIZENS.     Cursed  be  the  poison-mixers  !     Let  them  burn  ! 

CITIZENS.     Burn  !  burn  ! 

(Enter  Siisskind  von  Orb,  Liebhaid,  Reuben  and  Claire.) 

SCHNKTZEN.     Good  God  !  what  maid  is  that  ? 

TETTENBORN.  Liebhaid  von  Orb. 

SCHNETZEN.  The  devil's  trick  ! 

He  has  bewitched  mine  eyes. 

SUSSKIND  (as  he  passes  the  platform.}     Woe  to  the  father 
Who  murders  his  own  child  ! 

SCHNETZEN.  I  am  avenged, 

Siisskind  von  Orb  !     Blood  for  blood,  fire  for  fire, 
And  death  for  death  ! 

(Exeunt  Siisskind,  Liebhaid,  etc.) 
(Enter  Jewish  youths  and  maidens.) 

YOUTHS  (in  chorus. )      Let  us  rejoice,  for  it  is  promised  us 
That  we  shall  enter  in  God's  tabernacle  ! 

MA.IDENS.      Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O  Zion, 
Within  thy  portals,  O  Jerusalem  ! 

(Exeunt.) 


48 

CITIZEN'S  WIFE.     I  can  see  naught  from  here.  Let's  follow,  Hans. 

CITIZEN.     Be  satisfied.     There  is  no  inch  of  space 
For  foot  to  rest  on  yonder.     Look  !  look  there  ! 
How  the  flames  rise  ! 

BOY.  Oh  father,  I  can  see  ! 

They  all  are  dancing  in  the  crimson  blaze. 
Look  how  their  garments  wave,  their  jewels  shine, 
When  the  smoke  parts  a  bit.      The  tall  flames  dart. 
Is  not  the  fire  real  fire  ?     They  fear  it  not. 

VOICES  WITHOUT.      Arise,  oh  house  of  Jacob.      Let  us  walk 
Within  the  light  of  the  Almighty  Lord  ! 

(Enter  in  furious  haste  Prince  William  and  Nordmann.) 

PRINCE  W.     Respite  !     You  kill  your  daughter,    Henry  Schnetzen  ! 

NORDMANN.     Liebhaid  von  Orb  is  your  own  flesh  and  blood. 

SCHNETZEN.     Spectre  !  do  dead  men  rise  ? 

NORDMANN.  Yea,  for  revenge  ! 

I  swear,  Lord  Schnetzen,  by  my  knightly  honor, 
She  who  is  dancing  yonder  to  her  death, 
Is  thy  wife's  child  ! 

(Schnetzen  and  Prince  William  make  a  rush  forward  towards  the  flames.     Music 
ceases;  a  sound  of  crashing  boards  is  heard  and  a  great  cry — HALLELUJAH! 

PRINCE  W.  AND  SCHNETZEN.  Too  late  !  too  late  ! 

CITIZENS.  All's  done  ! 

PRINCE   W.      The  fire  !  the  fire  !     Liebhaid.  I  come  to  thee. 

(He  is  about  to  spring  forward  but  is  held  back  by  guards  ) 
SCHNETZEN.     Oh  cruel  Christ  !     Is  there  no  bolt  in  heaven 
For  the  child  murderer  ?     Kill  me,  my  friends  !  my  breast 
Is  bare  to  all  your  swords. 

(He  tears  open  his  jerkin  and  falls  unconscious.) 

(Curtain  falls.) 

THE  END. 


The  plot  and  incidents  of  this  Tragedy  are  taken  from  a  little  narrative  entitled 
"  Der  Tanz  zum  Tode;  ein  NachtstfAck  aus  dem  vierzehnten  Yahrhundert,"  (  The 
Dance  to  Death — a  Night-piece  of  the  fourteenth  century,).  By  Richard  Reinhard. 
Compiled  from  authentic  documents  communicated  by  Professor  Franz  Delitzsch. 

The  original  na-rative  thus  disposes  in  conclusion  of  the  principal  characters: — 
'•The  Knight  Henry  Schnetzen  ended  his  curse-stricken  life  in  a  cloister  of  the  strict 
est  order. 

'•  Herr  Nordmann  was  placed  in  close  confinement,  and  during  the  same  year  his 
head  fell  under  the  sword  of  the  executioner. 

"Prince  William  returned,  broken  down  with  sorrow,  to  Eisenach.  His  princely 
father's  heart  found  no  comfort  during  the  remainder  of  his  days.  He  died  soon 
after  the  murder  of  the  Jews — his  last  words  were,  'woe!  the  fire!' 

"William  reached  an  advanced  age,  but  his  life  was  joyless.  He  never  married,and 
at  his  death  Meissen  was  inherited  by  his  nephew. 

"The  Jewish  cemetery  in  Nordhausen,  the  scene  or this  martyrdom  lay  fora  lung 
time  waste.  Nobody  would  build  upon  it.  Now  it  is  a  bleaching  maadow,  and 
where  once  the  flames  sprang  up,  to  day  rests  peaceful  sunshine." 


SONGS 


51 
THE   NEW  YEAR. 

ROSH-HASHANAH,      5643. 

Not  while  the  snow-shroud  round  dead  earth  is  rolled, 
And  naked  branches  point  to  frozen  skies. — 

When  orchards  burn  their  lamps  of  fiery  gold, 
The  grape  glows  like  a  jewel,  and  the  corn 

A  sea  of  beauty  and  abundance  lies, 

Then  the  new  year  is  born. 

Look  where  the  mother  of  the  months  uplifts 
In  the  green  clearness  of  the  unsunned  West, 

Her  ivory  horn  of  plenty,  dropping  gifts, 

Cool,  harvest-feeding  dews,  fine-winnowed  light ; 

Tired  labor  with  fruition,  joy  and  rest 
Profusely  to  requite. 

Blow,  Israel,  the  sacred  cornet  !    Call 

Back  to  thy  courts  whatever  faint  heart  throb 

With  thine  ancestral  blood,  thy  need  craves  all. 
The  red,  dark  year  is  dead,  the  year  just  born 

Leads  on  from  anguish  wrought  by  priest  and  mob, 
To  what  undreamed-of  morn? 

For  never  yet,  since  on  the  holy  height, 

The  Temple's  marble  walls  of  white  and  green 

Carved  like  the  sea-waves,  fell,  and  the  world's  light 
Went  out  in  darkness, — never  was  the  year 

Greater  with  portent  and  with  promise  seen, 
Than  this  eve  now  and  here. 

Even  as  the  Prophet  promised,  so  your  tent 
Hath  been  enlarged  unto  earth's  farthest  rim. 

To  snow-capped  Sierras  from  vast  steppes  ye  went, 
Through  fire  and  blood  and  tempest-tossing  wave, 

For  freedom  to  proclaim  and  worship  Him, 
Mighty  to  slay  and  save. 

High  above  flood  and  fire  ye  held  the  scroll, 
Out  of  the  depths  ye  published  still  the  Word. 

No  bodily  pang  had  power  to  swerve  your  soul : 
Ye,  in  a  cynic  age  of  crumbling  faiths, 

Lived  to  bear  witness  to  the  living  Lord, 
Or  died  a  thousand  deaths. 

In  two  divided  streams  the  exiles  part, 

One  rolling  homeward  to  its  ancient  source, 

One  rushing  sunward  with  fresh  will,  new  heart. 
By  each  the  truth  is  spread,  the  law  unfurled, 

Each  separate  soul  contains  the  nation's  force, 
And  both  embrace  the  world. 


52 

Kindle  the  silver  candle's  seven  rays, 

Offer  the  firstfruits  of  the  clustered  bowers, 

The  garnered  spoil  of  bees.      With  prayer  and  praise 
Rejoice  that  once  more  tried,  once  more  we  prove 

How  strength  of  supreme  suffering  still  is  ours 
For  Truth  and  Law  and  Love. 


THE   CROWING   OF   THE    RED   COCK. 

Across  the  Eastern  sky  has  glowed 
The  flicker  of  a  blood-red  dawn  . 

Once  more  the  clarion  cock  has  crowed, 
Once  more  the  sword  of  Christ  is  drawn. 

A  million  burning  rooftrees  light 

The  world-wide  path  of  Israel's  flight. 

Where  is  the  Hebrew's  fatherland  ? 

The  folk  of  Christ  is  sore  bested  ; 
The  Son  of  Man  is  bruised  and  banned, 

Nor  finds  whereon  to  lay  his  head. 
His  cup  is  gall,  his  meat  is  tears, 
His  passion  lasts  a  thousand  years. 

Each  crime  that  wakes  in  man  the  beast, 

Is  visited  upon  his  kind. 
The  lust  of  mobs,  the  greed  of  priest, 

The  tyranny  of  kings,  combined 
To  root  his  seed  from  earth  again, 
His  record  is  one  cry  of  pain. 

When  the  long  roll  of  Christian  guilt 
Against  his  sires  and  kin  is  known, 

The  flood  of  tears,  the  life-blood  spilt, 
The  agony  of  ages  shown, 

What  oceans  can  the  stain  remove, 

From  Christian  law  and  Christian  love? 

Nay,  close  the  book  ;   not  now,  not  here, 

The  hideous  tale  of  sin  narrate, 
Reechoing  in  the  martyrs  ear, 

Even  he  might  nurse  revengeful  hate, 
Even  he  might  turn  in  wrath  sublime, 
With  blood  for  blood  and  crime  for  crime. 

Coward  ?  Not  he,  who  faces  death, 

Who  singly  against  worlds  has  fought, 
For  what  ?  0L  name  he  may  not  breathe 

For  liberty  of  prayer  and  thought  J 

e  angry  sword  he  will  not  whet, 

is  nobler  task  is — to  forget. 


53 

IN    EXILE. 

"  Since  that  day  till  now  our  life  is  one  unbroken 
paradise.  We  live  a  true  brotherly  life.  Every  even 
ing  after  supper  we  take  a  seat  under  the  mighty 
oak  and  sing  our  sorigs.—  Extract  from  a  lettw  of  a 
refugee  in  Texas. 


Twilight  is  here,  soft  breezes  bow  the  grass, 
Day's  sounds  of  various  toil  break  slowly  off. 

The  yoke-  freed  oxen  low,  the  patient  ass 

Dips  his  dry  nostril  in  the  cool,  deep  trough. 

Up  from  the  prairie  the  tanned  herdsmen  pass 
With  frothy  pails,  guiding  with  voices  rough 

Their  udder-lightened  kine.      Fresh  smells  of  earth, 

The  rich,  black  furrows  of  the  glebe  send  forth.    . 

After  the  Southern  day  of  heavy  toil, 

How  good  to  lie,  with  limbs  relaxed,  brows  bare 

To  evening's  fan,  and  watch  the  smoke-wreaths  coil 
Up  from  one's  pipe-stem  through  the  rayless  air- 

So  deem  these  unused  tillers  of  the  soil, 

Who  stretched  beneath  the  shadowing  oak  tree,  stare 

Peacefully  on  the  star-unfolding  skies, 

And  name  their  life  unbroken  paradise. 

The  hounded  stag  that  has  escaped  the  pack, 
And  pants  at  ease  within  a  thick-leaved  dell; 

The  unimprisoned  bird  that  finds  the  track 

Through  sun-bathed  space,  to  where  his  fellows  dwell; 

The  martyr,  granted  respite  from  the  rack, 

The  death-doomed  victim  pardoned  from  his  cell,  — 

Such  only  know  the  joy  these  exiles  gain,  — 

Life's  sharpest  rapture  is  surcease  of  pain. 

Strange  faces  theirs,  wherethrough  the  Orient  sun 
Gleams  from  the  eyes  and  glows  athwart  the  skin. 

Grave  lines  of  studious  thought  and  purpose  run 

From  curl-crowned  forehead  to  dark-bearded  chin. 

And  over  all  the  seal  is  stamped  thereon 
Of  anguish  branded  by  a  world  of  sin, 

In  fire  and  blood  through  ages  on  their  name, 

Their  seal  of  glory  and  the  Gentiles'  shame. 

Freedom  to  love  the  law  that  Moses  brought, 
To  sing  the  songs  'of  David,  and  to  think 

The  thoughts  Gabirol  to  Spinoza  taught, 
Freedom  to  dig  the  common  earth,  to  drink 

The  universal  air  —  for  this  they  sought 
Refuge  o'er  wave  and  continent,  to  link 

Egypt  with  Texas  in  their  mystic  chain, 

And  truth's  perpetual  lamp  forbid  to  wane. 


54 

Hark  !  through  the  quiet  evening  air,  their  song 

Floats  forth  with  w.ild,  sweet  rhythm  and  glad  refrain. 

They  sing  the  conquest  of  the  spirit  strong, 
The  soul  that  wrests  the  victory  from  pain  ; 

The  noble  joys  of  manhood  that  belong 

To  comrades  and  to  brothers.     In  their  strain 

Rustle  cf  palms  and  Eastern  streams  one  hears. 

And  the  broad  prairie  melts  in  mist  of  tears. 

IN   MEMORIAM— REV.  J.  J.  LYONS. 

ROSH-HASHANAH,     5638. 

The  golden  harvest-tide  is  here,  the  corn 
Bows  its  proud  tops  beneath  the  reaper's  hand. 
Ripe  orchards'  plenteous  yields  enrich  the  land; 
Bring  the  first  fruits  and  offer  them  this  mornj 
With  the  stored  sweetness  of  all  summer  hours, 
.  The  amber  honey  sucked  from   myriad  flowers, 
And  sacrifice  your  best,  first  fruits  to-day, 
With  fainting  hearts  and  hands  forespent  with  toil, 
Offer  the  mellow  harvest's  splendid  spoil, 
To   Him  who  gives  and  Him  who  takes  away. 

Bring  timbrels,  bring  the  harp  of  sweet  accord, 
And  in  a  pleasant  psalm  your  voice  attune, 
And  blow  the  cornet  greeting  the  new  moon. 
Sing,  holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord, 
Who  killeth  and  who  quickeneth  again, 
Who  woundeth,  and  who  healeth  mortal  pain. 
Whose  hand  afflicts  us,  and  who  sends  us  peace. 
Hail  thou  slim  arc  of  promise  in  the  West, 
Thou  pledge  of  certain  plenty,  peace,  and  rest. 
With  the  spent  year,  may  the  year's  sorrows  cease. 

For  there  is  mourning  now  in  Israel, 

The  crown,  the  garland  of  the  branching  tree 

Is  plucked  and  withered.      Ripe  of  years  was  he. 

The  priest,  the  good  old  man  who  wrought  so  well 

Upon  his  chosen  glebe.      For  he   was  one 

Who  at  his  seed-plot  toiled  through  rain  and  sun. 

Morn  found  him  not  as  one  who  slumbereth, 

Noon  saw  him  faithful,  and  the  restful  night 

Stole  o'er  him  at  his  labors  to  requite 

The  just  man's  service  with  the  just  man's  death. 

What  shall  be  said  when  such  as  he  do  pass? 
Go  to  the  hill-side,  neath  the  cypress-trees, 
Fall  midst  that  peopled  silence  on  your  knees, 


55 

And  weep  that  man  must  wither  as  the  grass. 
But  mourn  him  not,  whose  blameless  life  complete 
Rounded  its  perfect  orb,  whose  sleep  is  sweet, 
Whom  we  must  follow,  but  may  not  recall. 
Salute  with  solemn  trumpets  the  New  Year, 
And  offer  honeyed  fruits  as  were  he  here, 
Though  ye  be  sick  with  wormwood  and  with  gall. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  BACA. 

PSALM    LXXXIV. 

A  brackish  lake  is  there  with  bitter  pools 
Anigh  its  margin,  brushed  by  heavy  trees. 

A  piping  wind  the  narrow  valley  cools, 
Fretting  the  willows  and  the  cypresses. 

Gray  skies  above,  and  in  the  gloomy  space 

An  awful  presence  hath  its  dwelling-place. 

I  saw  a  youth  pass  down  that  vale  of  tears; 

His  head  was  circled  with  a  crown  of  thorn, 
His  form  was  bowed  as  by  the  weight  of  years, 

His  wayworn  feet  by  stones  were  cut  and  torn. 
His  eyes  were  such  as  have  beheld  the  sword 
Of  terror  of  the  angel  of  the  Lord. 

He  passed,  and  clouds  and  shadows  and  thick  haze 
Fell  and  encompassed  him      I  might  not  see 

What  hand  upheld  him  in  those  dismal  ways, 
Wherethrough  he  staggered  with  his  misery. 

The   creeping  mists  that  trooped   and   spread  around, 

The  smitten  head  and  writhing  form  enwound. 

Then  slow  and  gradual  but  sure  they  rose, 
Those  clinging  vapors  blotting  out  the  sky. 

The  youth  had  fallen  not,  his  viewless  foes 
Discomfited,  had  left  the  victory 

Unto  the  heart  that  fainted  not   nor  failed, 

But  from  the  hill  tops  its  salvation  hailed. 

I  looked  at  him  in  dread  lest  I  should  see, 
The  anguish  of  the  struggle  in  his  eyes; 

And  lo,  great  peace  was  there!    Triumphantly 
The  sunshine  crowned  him  from  the  sacred  skies. 

"From  strength  to  strength  he  goes,"  he  leaves  beneath 

The  valley  of  the  shadow  and  of  death. 

"  Thrice  blest  who  passing  through  that  vale  of  Tears, 
Makes  it  a  well," — and  draws  life-nourishment 


56 

From  those  death-bitter  drops.      No' grief,  no  fears 

Assail  him  further,  he  may  scorn  the  event. 
For  naught  hath  power  to  swerve  the  steadfast  soul 
Within  that  valley  broken  and  made  whole. 

THE   BANNER   OF   THE   JEW. 

Wake,  Israel,  wake  !     Recall  to-day 

The  glorious  Maccabean  rage, 
The  sire  heroic,  hoary-gray, 
His  five-fold  lion-lineage  : 
;    The  Wise,  the  Elect,  the  Help-of-God, 

The  Burst-of-Spring,  the  Avenging  Rod.  * 

From  Mizpeh's  mountain-ridge  they  saw 
Jerusalem's  empty  streets,  her  shrine 

Laid  waste  where  Greeks  protaned  the  Law, 
With  idol  and  with  pagan  sign. 

Mourners  in  tattered  black  were  there, 
With  ashes  sprinkled  on  their  hair. 

Then  from  the  stony  peak  there  rang 

A  blast  to  ope  the  graves  :   down  poured 

The  Maccabean  clan,  who  sang 
Their  battle-anthem  to  the  Lord. 

Five  heroes  lead,  and  following,  see, 
Ten  thousand  rush  to  victory  ! 

Oh. for  Jerusalem's  trumpet  now, 
/" ""To  blow  a  blast  of  shattering  power, 
\To  wake  the  sleepers  high  and  low, 

] And  rouse  them  to  the  urgent  hour  ! 

No  hand  for  vengeance — but  to  save, 
A  million  naked  swords  should  wave. 

Oh  deem  not  dead  that  martial  fire, 

Say  not  the  mystic  flame  is  spent ! 
With  Moses'  law  and  David's  lyre, 

Your  ancient  strength  remains  unbent. 
Let  but  an  Ezra  rise  anew, 

To  lift  the  Banner  of  the  Jew  ! 

A  rag,  a  mock  at  first — erelong. 

When  men  have  bled  and  women  wept, 

To  guard  its  precious  folds  from  wrong, 

Even  they  who  shrunk,  even  they  who  slept, 

Shall  leap  to  bless  it,  and  to  save. 

Strike  !  for  the  brave  revere  the  brave  ! 


1  The   sons    of  Mattathias — Jonathan,    John.    Eleazar,   Simon 
(also  called  the*  Jewel),  and  Judas,  the  Prince. 


57 
THE  GUARDIAN   OF   THE   RED. DISK. 

SPOKEN   BY   A   CITIZEN   OF   MALTA — 1300. 

A  curious  title  held  in  high  repute, 

One  among  many  honors,  thickly  strewn 

On  my  lord  Bishop's  head,  his  grace  of  Malta. 

Nobly  he  bears  them  all, — with  tact,  skill,  zeal, 

Fulfills  each  special  office,  vast  or  slight, 

Nor  slurs  the  least  minutia,— therewithal 

Wears  such  a  stately  aspect  of  command, 

Broad  cheeked,  broad-chested,  reverend,  sanctified, 

Haloed  with  white  about  the  tonsure's  rim, 

With  dropped  lids  o'er  the  piercing  Spanish  eyes 

(Lynx-keen,  I  warrant,  to  spy  out  heresy); 

Tall,  massive  form,  o'ertowering  all  in  presence, 

Or  ere  they  kneel  to  kiss  the  large  white  hand. 

His  looks  sustain  his  deeds, — the  perfect  prelate, 

Whose  void  chair  shall  be  taken,  but  not  filled. 

You  know  not,  who.  are  foreign  to  the  isle, 
Haply,  what  this  Red  Disk  may  be,  he  guards. 
'Tis  the  bright  blotch,  big  as  the  Royal  seal, 
Branded  beneath  the  beard  of  every  Jew. 
These  vermin  so  infest  the  isle,  so  slide 
Into  all  byways,  highways  that  may  lead 
Direct  or  roundabout  to  wealth  or  power, 
Some  plain,  plump  mark  was  needed,  to  protect 
From  the  degrading  contact  Christian  folk. 

The  evil  had  grown  monstrous  :   certain  Jews 
Wore  such  a  haughty  air,  had  so  refined, 
With  super-subtile  arts,  strict,  monkish  lives, 
And  studious  habit,  the  coarse  Hebrew  type, 
One  might  have  elbowed  in  the  public  mart 
Iscariot, — nor  suspected  one's  soul-peril. 
Christ's  blood  !  it  sets  my  flesh  a  creep  to  think  ! 
We  may  breathe  freely  now,  not  fearing  taint, 
Praised  be  our  good  Lord  Bishop!    He  keeps  count 
Of  every  Jew,  and  prints  on  cheek  or  chin 
The  scarlet  stamp  of  separateness,  of  shame. 

No  beard,  blue-black,  grizzled  or  Judas-colored, 
May  hide  that  damning  little  wafer-flame. 
When  one  appears  therewith,  the  urchins  know 
Good  sport's  at  hand;  they  fling  their  stones  and    mud, 
Sure  of  their  game.      But  most  the  wisdom  shows 
Upon  the  unbelievers'  selves;  they  learn 


58 

Their  proper  rank  ;    crouch,  cringe  and  hide, — lay  by 
Their  insolence  of  self-esteem  ;  no  more 
Flaunt  forth  in  rich  attire,  but  in  dull  weeds, 
Slovenly  donned,  would  slink  past  unobserved; 
Bow  servile  necks  and  crook  obsequious  knees, 
Chin  sunk  in  hollow  chest,  eyes  fixed  on  earth 
Or  blinking  sidewise,  but.  to  apprehend 
Whether  or  not  the  hated  spot  be  spied. 
I  warrant  my  lord  Bishop  has  full  hands, 
Guarding  the  Red  Disk — lest  one  rogue  escape  ! 


A  TRANSLATION   AND   TWO   IMITATIONS. 

I. 

DONNA    CLARA. 
(FROM   THE    GERMAN   OF    HEINE). 

In  the  evening  through  her  garden 

Wanders  the  Alcalde's  daughter, 
Festal  sounds  of  drum  and  trumpet 

Ring  out  hither  from  the  Castle. 

"  I  am  weary  of  the  dances, 

Honeyed  word  of  adulation 
From  the  knights  who  still  compare  me 

To  the  sun  with  dainty  phrases. 

Yes,  of  all  things  I  am  weary, 

Since  I  first  beheld  by  moonlight 
Him,  my  cavalier,  whose  zither 

Nightly  draws  me  to  my  casement. 

As  he  stands  so  slim  and  daring, 
With  his  flaming  eyes  that  sparkle, 

And  with  nobly  pallid  features 
Truly,  he  St.  George  resembles." 

Thus  went  Donna  Clara  dreaming, 

On  the  ground  her  eyes  were  fastened. 

When  she  raised  them,  lo  !   before  her 
Stood  the  handsome  knightly  stranger. 

Pressing  hands  and  whispering  passion, 
These  twain  wander  in  the  moonlight, 

Gently  doth  the  breeze  caress  them, 
The  enchanted  roses  greet  them. 


59 

The  enchanted  roses  greet  them, 

And  they  glow  like  Love's  own  heralds. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me,  my  beloved, 

Wherefore  all  at  once  thou  blushest  ?  " 

"  Gnats  were  stinging  me,  my  darling, 
And  I  hate  these  gnats  in  summer 

E'en  as  though  they  were  a  rabble 

Of  vile  Jews  with  long,  hooked  noses." 

"  Heed  not  gnats  nor  Jews,  beloved," 
Spake  the  knight  with  fond  endearments. 

From  the  almond  trees  dropped  downward 
Myriad  snowy  flakes  of  blossoms. 

Myriad  snowy  flakes  of  blossoms 
Shed  around  them  fragrant  odons. 

"  Tell  me,  tell  me,  my  beloved, 

Looks  thy  heart  on  me  with  favor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  thee,  O  my  darling, 

And  I  swear  it  by  our  Savior, 
Whom  the  accursed  Jews  did  murder, 

Long  ago  with  wicked  malice." 

"  Heed  thou  neither  Jews  nor  Savior," 
Spake  the  knight  with  fond  endearments. 

Far  off  waved  as  in  a  vision, 

Gleaming  lilies  bathed  in  moonlight. 

Gleaming  lilies  bathed  in  moonlight 

Seemed  to  watch  the  stars  above  them. 

"Tell,  me,  tell  me,  my  beloved, 

Didst  thou  not  erewhile  swear  falsely  ?" 

"  Naught  is  false  in  me,  my  darling, 
E'en  as  in  my  veins  there  floweth 

Not  a  drop  of  blood  that's  Moorish, 
Neither  of  foul  Jewish  current." 

"  Heed  not  Moors  nor  Jews,  beloved," 
Spake  the  knight  with  fond  endearments. 

Then  towards  a  grove  of  myrtles 
Leads  he  the  Alcalde's  daughter. 

And  with  Love's  slight  subtile  meshes, 
He  has  trapped  her  and  entangled. 

Brief  their  words,  but  long  their  kisses, 
For  their  hearts  are  overflowing. 

What  a  melting  bridal  carol 
Sings  the  nightingale,  the  pure  one. 

How  the  fire-flies  in  the  grasses 

Trip  their  sparkling  torchlight  dances  ! 


60 

In  the  grove  the  silence  deepens, 
Naught  is  heard  save  furtive  rustling 

Of  the  swaying  myrtle  branches, 
And  the  breathing  of  the  flowers. 

But  the  sound  of  drum  and  trumpet 
Burst  forth  sudden  from  the  castle. 

Rudely  they  awaken  Clara, 

Pillowed  on  her  Lover's  bosom. 

"  Hark  !  they  summon  me,  my  darling  ! 

But  before  we  part,  oh  tell  me, 
Tell  me  what  thy  precious  name  is, 

Which  so  closely  thou  hast  hidden." 

Then  the  knight  with  gentle  laughter, 

Kissed  the  fingers  of  his  Donna, 
Kissed  her  lips  and  kissed  her  forehead, 

And  at  last  these  words  he  uttered : 

"I,  Senora,  your  beloved, 

Am  the  son  of  the  respected, 
Worthy,  erudite  Grand  Rabbi, 
Israel  of  Saragossa." 

(The  ensemble  of  the  romance  is  a  scene  of  my  own  life — only  the 
Park  of  Berlin  has  become  the  Alcalde's  garden,  the  Baroness  a 
Senora,  and  myself  a  St.  George  or  even  an  Apollo.  This  was  on 
ly  to  be  the  first  part  of  a  trilogy,  the  second  of  which  shows  the 
hero  jeered  at  by  his  own  child  who  does  not  know  him,  whilst  the 
third  discovers  this  child  who  has  become  a  Dominican,  and  is 
torturing  to  the  death  his  Jewish  brethren.  The  refrain  of  these 
two  pieces  corresponds  with  that  of  the  first.  Indeed  this  little 
poem  was  not  intended  to  excite  laughter,  still  less  to  denote  a 
mocking  spirit.  I  merely  wished  without  any  definite  purpose  to 
render  with  epic  impartiality  in  this  poem  an  individual  circum 
stance,  and  at  the  same  time  something  general  and  universal — a 
moment  in  the  world's  history  which  was  distinctly  reflected  in  my 
experience,  and  I  had  conceived  the  whole  idea  in  a  spirit  which 
was  anything  rather  than  smiling,  but  serious  and  painful,  so  much 
so,  that  it  was  to  form  the  first  part  of  a  tragic  trilogy. 

HEINE'S  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Guided  by  these  hints,  I  have  endeavored  to  carry  out  in  the 
two  following  original  Hallads  the  Poet's  first  conception. 

EMMA  LAZARUS.) 


6] 

II. 
DON    PEDRILLO. 

Not  a  lad  in  Saragossa 

Nobler-featured,  haughtier- tempered, 
Then  the  Alcalde's  youthful  grandson, 

Donna  Clara's  boy  Pedrillo. 

Handsome  as  the  Prince  of  Evil, 

And  devout  as  St.  Ignatius. 
Deft  at  fence,  unmatched  with  zither, 

Miniature  of  knightly  virtues. 

Truly  an   unfailing  blessing, 
To  his  pious,  widowed  mother. 

To  the  beautiful,  lone  matron 

Who  forswore  the  world  to  rear  him. 

For  her  beauty  hath  but  ripened 
In  such  wise  as  the  pomegranate 

Putteth  by  her  crown  of  blossoms, 
For  her  richer  crown  of  fruitage. 

Still  her  hand  is    claimed  and  courted, 
Still  she  spurns  her  proudest  suitors, 

Doting  on  a  phantom  passion, 
And  upon  her  boy  Pedrillo. 

Like  a  saint  lives  Donna  Clara, 
First  at  matins,  last  at  vespers, 

Half  her  fortune  she  expendeth 
Buying  masses  for  the  needy. 

Visiting  the  poor  afflicted, 

Infinite  is  her  compassion, 
Scorning  not  the  Moorish  beggar, 

Nor  the  wretched   Jew  despising. 

And — a  scandal  to  the  faithful, 

E'en  she  hath  been  known  to  welcome 

To  her  castle  the  young  Rabbi, 
Offering  to  his  tribe  her  bounty. 

Rarely  hath  he  crossed  the  threshold, 
Yet  the  thought  that  he  hath,  crossed  it, 

Burns  like  poison  in  the  marrow 
Of  the  zealous  youth  Pedrillo. 

By  the  blessed   Saint  lago, 

He  hath  vowed  immortal  hatred 

To  these  circumcised  intruders 

Who  pollute  the  soil  of  Spaniards. 


62 

Seated  in  his  mother's  garden, 

At  high  noon  the  boy  Pedrillo 
Playeth  with  his  favorite  parrot, 

Golden-green  with  streaks  of  scarlet. 

"  Pretty  Dodo,  speak  thy  lesson," 

Coaxed  Pedrillo — "thief  and  traitor" — 

"  Thief  and  traitor" — croaked  the  parrot, 
"Is  the  yellow-skirted  Rabbi." 

And  the  boy  with  peals  of  laughter, 
Stroked  his  favorite's  head  of  emerald, 

Raised  his  eyes,  and  lo!  before  him 
Stood  the  yellow-skirted  Rabbi. 

In  his  dark  eyes  gleamed  no  anger, 
No  hot  flush  o'erspread  his  features. 

'Neath  his  beard  his  pale  lips  quivered, 
And  a  shadow  crossed  his  forehead. 

Very  gentle  was  his  aspect, 

And  his  voice  was  mild  and  friendly, 
"  Evil  words,  my  son,  thou  speakest. 

Teaching  to  the  fowls  of  heaven. 

"  In  our  Talmud  it  stands  written, 

Thrice  curst  is  the  tongue  of  slander, 
Poisoning  also  with  its  victim, 

Him  who  speaks  and  him  who  listens." 

But  no  whit  abashed,  Pedrillo, 

"  What  care  I  for  curse  of  Talmud? 

'Tis  no  slander  to  speak  evil 
Of  the  murderers  of  our  Savior. 

"To  your  beard  I  will  repeat'it, 
That  [  only  bide  my  manhood, 

To  wreak  all  my  lawful  hatred, 
On  thyself  and  on  thy  people." 

Very  gently  spoke  the  Rabbi, 
"Have  a  care,   my  son   Pedrillo, 

Thou  art  orphaned,  and  who   knoweth, 
But  thy  father  loved  this  people?" 

"Think  you  words  like  these  will   touch  me? 

Such  I  laugh  to  scorn,  sir  Rabbi, 
From  high  heaven,  my  sainted  father 

On  my  deeds  will  smile  in  blessing. 

'•  Loyal  knight  was  he  and  noble, 

And  my  mother  oft  assures  me, 
Ne'er  she  saw   so  pure  a  Christian, 

'Tis  from  him  my  zeal  deriveth." 


.63 

"What  if  he  were  such  another 

As  myself  who  stand  before  thee?" 

"  I  should  curse  the  hour  that  bore  me, 
I  should  die  of  shame  and  horror." 

"  Harsher  is  thy  creed  than  ours; 

For  had  I  a  son  as  comely 
As  Pedrillo,  I  would  love  him, 

Love  him  were  he  thrice  a  Christian. 

"  In  his  youth  my  youth  renewing 
Pamper,  fondle,  die  to  serve  him, 

Only  breath'ng  through  .his  spirit — 
Couldst'thou  not  love  such  a  father?" 

Faltering  spoke  the  deep-voiced  Rabbi, 
With  white  lips  and  twitching  fingers, 

Then  in  clear,  young,  steady  treble, 
Answered  him  the  boy  Pedrillo: 

"  At  the  thought  my  heart  revolteth, 
All  your  tribe  offend  my  senses, 

They're  an  eyesore  to  my  vision, 
And  a  stench  unto  my  nostrils. 

"  When  I  meet  these  unbelievers, 
With  thick  lips  and  eagle  noses, 

Thus  I  scorn  them,  thus  revile  them, 
Thus  I  spit  upon  their  garment." 

And  the  haughty  youth  passed  onward, 
Bearing  on  his  wrist  his  parrot, 

And  the  yellow  skirted  Rabbi 

With  bowed  head  sought  Donna  Clara. 

III. 
FRA   PEDRO. 

Golden  lights  and  lengthening  shadows, 
Flings  the  splendid  sun  declining, 

O'er  the  monastery  garden 

Rich  in  flower,  fruit  and  foliage. 

Through  the  avenue  of  nut  trees, 
Pace  two  grave  and  ghostly  friars, 

Snowy  white  their  gowns  and  girdles, 
Black  as  night  their  cowls  and  mantles. 

Lithe  and  ferret-eyed  the  younger, 

Black  his  scapular  denoting 
A  lay  brother;  his  companion 

Large,  imperious,  towers  above  him. 


64 

Tis  the  abbot,  great  Fra  Pedro, 

Famous  through  all  Saragossa, 
For  his  quenchless  zeal  in  crushing 

Heresy  amidst  his  townfolk. 

Handsome  still  with  hood  and  tonsure, 

E'en  as  when  the  boy  Pedrillo, 
Insolent  with  youth  and  beauty, 

Who  reviled  the  gentle  Rabbi. 

Lo,  the  level  sun  strikes  sparkles, 

From  his  dark  eyes  brightly  flashing, 

Stern  his  voice:   "  These  too  shall  perish. 
I  have  vowed   extermination. 

"  Tell  not  me  of  skill  or  virtue, 

Filial  love  or  woman's  beauty. , 
Jews  are  Jews,  as  serpents  serpents, 

In  themselves  abomination." 

Earnestly  the  other  pleaded, 

"  If  my  zeal,  thrice  reverend  master, 

E'er  afforded  thee  assistance. 

Serving  thee  as  flesh  serves  spirit. 

"  Hounding,  scourging,  flaying,  burning, 

Casting  into  chains  or  exile, 
At  thy  bidding  these  vile  wretches, 

Hear  and  heed  me  now,  my  master. 

"These  be  nowise  like  their  brethren, 

Ben  Jehudah  is  accounted 
Saragossa's  first  physician, 
Loved  by  colleague  as  by  patient. 

"  And  his  daughter   Donna  Zara 

Is  our  city's  pearl  of  beauty, 
Like  the  clusters  of  the,  vineyard, 

Droop  the  ringlets  o'er  her  temples 

"  Like  the  moon  in  starry  heavens, 
Shines  her  face  among  her  people, 

And  her  form  hath  all  the  languor, 
Grace  and  glamour  of  the  palm  tree. 

''Wellthou  knowest,  thrice  reverend  master, 

This  is  not  their  first  affliction, 
Was  it  not  our  holy  office, 

Whose  bribed  menials  fired  their  dwelling? 

"  Ere  dawn  broke,  the  smoke  ascended, 
Choked  the  stairways,  filled  the  chambers, 

Waked  the  household  to  the  terror 
Of  the  flaming  death  that  threatened. 


65 

"  Then  the  poor  bed  ridden  mother  • 

Knew  her  hour  had  come;  two  daughters, 

Twinned  in  form,  and  mind,  and  spirit, 

And  their  father — who  would  save  them? 

"  Towards  her  door  sprang  Ben  Jehudah, 

Donna  Zara  flew  behind  him 
Round  his  neck  her  white  arms  wreathing, 

Drew  him  from  the  burning  chamber. 

•'  There  within,  her  sister  Zillah 
Stirred  no  limb  to  shun  her  torture, 

Held  her  mother's  hand  and  kissed  her, 
Saying,  '  We  will  go  together.' 

"This  the  outer  throng  could  witness, 
A s>  the  flames  enwound  the  dwelling, 

Like  a  glory  they  illumined 

Awfully  the  martyred  daughter. 

"  Closer,  fiercer,  round  they  gathered, 

Not  a  natural  cry  escaped  her, 
Helpless  clung  to  her  her  mother, 

Hand  in  hand  they  went  together. 

"  Since  that  '  Act  of  Faith  '  three  winters 
Have  rolled  by,  yet  on  the  forehead 

Of  Jehudah  is  imprinted 

Still  the  horror  of  that  morning. 

"  Saragossa  hath  respected 

His  false  creed;  a  man  of  sorrows, 

He  hath  walked  secure  among  us, 
And  his  art  repays  our  sufferance." 

Thus  he  spoke  and  ceased.     The  Abbot 

Lent  him  an  impatient  hearing, 
Then  outbroke  with  angry  accent, 

"  We  have  borne  three  years,  thou  sayest? 

"  '  Tis  enough;   my  vow  is  sacred. 

These  shall  perish  with  their  brethren. 
Hark  ye!     In  my  veins'  pure  current 

Were  a  single  drop  found  Jewish, 

"I  would  shrink  not  from  outpouring 
All  my  life  blood,  but  to  purge  it. 

Shall  I  gentler  prove  to  others? 
Mercy  would  be  sacrilegious. 

"Ne'er  again  at  thy  soul's  peril, 

Speak  to  me  of  Jewish  beauty, 
Jewish  skill,  or  Jewish  virtue. 

I  have  said. — Do  thou  remember." 


Down  behind  the  purple  hillside 

Dropped  the  sun;  above  the  garden 

Rang  the  Angelus1  clear  cadence 
Summoning  the  monks  to  vespers. 

TRANSLATIONS  FROM  THE  HEBREW  POETS 

OF  MEDIEVAL  SPAIN. 

i. 

SOLOMON  BEN  JUDAH   GABIROL. 
(DIED  BETWEEN   1070-80.) 

''  Am  I  sipping  the  honey  of  the  lips? 
Am  I  drunk  with  the  wine  of  a  kiss? 
Have  I  culled  the  flowers  of  the  cheek, 
Havel  sucked  the  fresh  fragrance  of  the  breath? 
Nay,  it  is  the  Song  of  Gabirol  that  has  revived  me, 
The  perfume  of  his  youthful,  spring-tide  breeze." 

MOSES  BEN  ESRA. 

"  J  will  engrave  my  songs  indelibly  upon  the  heart  of  the  world, 
so  that  no  one  can  efface  tnem." 

GABIROL. 

NIGHT-THOUGHTS. 

Will  night  already  spread  her   wings  and  weave 

Her  dusky  robe  about  the  day's   bright  form, 

Boldly  the  sun's  fair  countenance  displacing, 

And  swathe  it  with  her    shadow  in   broad  day? 

So  a  green  wreath  of  mist  enrings  the  moon, 

Till  envious  clouds  do  quite  encompass  her. 

No  wind!  and  yet  the  slender  sterri  is  stirred, 

With  faint,  slight  motion  as  from  inward  tremor. 

Mine  eyes  are  full  of  grief — who  sees  me,  asks, 

"Oh  wherefore  dost  thou  cling  unto  the  ground?" 

My  friends  discourse  with   sweet  and   soothing  words; 

They  all  are  vain,  they  glide  above  my  head. 

I|fain  would  check  my  tears;  would  fain  enlarge 

Unto  infinity,  my  heart — in  vain! 

Grief  presses  hard  my  breast,  therefore  my  tears 

Have  scarcely  dried,  ere  they  again  spring  forth. 

For  these  are  streams,  no  furnace  heat  may  quench, 

Nebuchadnezzar's  flames  may  dry  them  not. 

What  is  the  pleasure  of  the  day  for  me, 

If,  in  its  crucible,  I  must  renew 

Incessantly  the  pangs  of  purifying? 

Up,  challenge,  wrestle,  and  o'ercome!      Be  strong! 


67 

The  late  grapes  cover  all  the  vine  with   fruit, 
lam  riot  glad,  though  even  the  lion's  pride 
Content  itself  upon  the  field's  poor  grass. 
My  spirit  sinks  beneath  the  tide,  soars  not 
With  fluttering  seamews  on  the  moist,  soft  strand. 
I  follow  fortune  not,  where'er  she  lead. 
Lord  o'er  myself,  I  banish  her,  compel 
And  though  her  clouds  should  rain  no  blessed  dew, 
Though  she  withhold  the  crown,  the  heart's  desire, 
Though  all  deceive,  though  honey  change  to  gall, 
Still  am  I  lord,  and  will  in  freedom  strive. 

MEDITATIONS. 

Forget  thine  anguish, 

Vexed  heart,  again. 
Why  shouldst  thou  languish, 

With  earthly  pain? 
The  husk  shall  slumber, 

Bedded  in  clay 
Silent  and  sombre, 

Oblivion's  prey! 
But,  Spirit  immortal, 
Thou  at  Death's  portal, 

Tremblest  with  fear. 

If  he  caress  thee, 

Curse  thee  or  bless  thee, 

Thou  must  draw  near, 
From  him  the  worth  of  thy  works  to  hear. 

Why  full  of  terror, 

Compassed  with  error, 

Trouble   thy  heart, 

For  thy  mortal  part? 

The  soul  flies  home — 

The  corpse  is  dumb. 

Of  all  thou  didst  have, 
Follows  naught  to  the  grave. 

Thou'fliest  thy  nest, 
Swift1  as  a  bird  to  thy'place  of  rest. 

What  avail  grief  and  fasting, 

Where  nothing  is  lasting? 

Pomp,   domination, 

Become   tribulation. 

In  a  health-giving  draught, 

A  death-dealing  shaft. 

Wealth — an  illusion,  p 

Power — a  lie, 


68 

Over  all,  dissolution 
Creeps  silent  and  sly. 
Unto  others  remain 
The  goods  thou  didst  gain 
With  infinite  pain. 

Life  is  a  vine-branch; 

A  vintager,  death. 
He  threatens  and  lowers 

More  near  with  each  breath. 
Then  hasten,  arise! 

Seek  God,  oh  my  soul! 
For  time  quickly  flies, 

Still  far  is  the  goal. 
Vain  heart  praying  dumbly, 

Learn  to  prize  humbly, 

The  meanest  of  fare. 
Forget  all  thy  sorrow, 

Behold,  Death  is  there! 

Dove-like  lamenting, 

Be  full  of  repenting, 
Lift  vision  supernal 
To  raptures  eternal. 

On  ev'ry  occasion 

Seek  lasting  salvation. 
Pour  thy  heart  out  in  weeping, 
While  others  are  sleeping. 
Pray  to  Him  when  all's  still, 
Performing  His  will. 

And  so  shall  the  angel  of  peace  be  thy  warden, 
And  guide  thee  at  last  to  the  heavenly  garden. 

HYMN 

Almighty!  what  is  man? 

But  flesh  and  blood. 
Like  shadows  flee  his  days, 
He  marks  not  how  they  vanish  from  his  gaze, 

Suddenly,  he  must  die- 
He  droppeth.  stunned,  into  nonentity. 

Almighty!  what  is  man? 

A  body  frail  and  weak. 

Full  of  deceit  and  lies, 

Of  vile  hypocrisies. 
Now  like  a  flower  blowing, 
Now  scorched  by  sunbeams  glowing. 
And  wilt  thou  of  his  trespasses  inquire? 

How  may  he  ever  bear 


69 

Thine  anger  just,  thy  vengeance  dire?    • 

Punish  him  not,  but  spare, 
For  he  is  void  of  power  and  strength  ! 

Almighty!   what  is  mah? 

By  filthy  lust  possessed, 
Whirled  in  a  round  of  lies, 

Fond  frenzy  swells  his  breast. 
The  pure  man  sinks  in  mire  and  slime, 
The  noble  shrinketh  not  from  crime, 
Wilt  thou  resent  on  him  the  charms  of  sin? 

Like  fading  grass, 

So  shall  he  pass. 

Like  chaff  that  blows 

Where  the  wind  goes. 

Then  spare  him,  be    thou  merciful,  O  King, 
Upon  the  dreaded  day  of  reckoning! 

Almighty!   what  is  man? 

The  haughty  son  of  time 

Drinks  deep  of  sin, 
And  feeds  on  crime 
Seething  like,  waves  that  roll, 
Hot  as  a  glowing  coal. 
And  wilt  thou  punish  him  for  sins  inborn? 

Lost  and   forlorn, 

Then  like  the  weakling  he  must  fall, 
Who  some  great  hero  strives  withal. 
Oh,  spare  him,  therefore!  let  him  win 

Grace  for  his  sin! 

Almighty!  what  is  man? 

Spotted  in  guilty  wise, 

A  stranger  unto  faith, 

Whose  tongue   is  stained  with  lies, 
And  shalt  thou  count  his  sins — so  is  he  lost, 

Uprooted  by  thy  breath. 
Like  to  a  stream  by  tempest  tossed. 
His  life  falls  from  him  like  a  cloak, 
He  passes  into   nothingness,  like  smoke. 
Then  spare  him,  punish  not,  be  kind,  I  pray, 
To  him  who  dwelleth  in  the  dust,  an  image  wrought  in  clay! 

Almighty!    what  is  man? 

A   withered  bou^h! 

When  he  is  awestruck  by  approaching  doom. 
Like  a  dried  blade  of  grass,  so  weak,  so  low 
The  pleasure  of  his  life  is  changed  to  gloom. 
He  crumbles  like  a  garment  spoiled  with  moth; 


70 

According  to  his  sins  wilt  thou  be  wroth? 
He  melts  like  wax  before  the  candle's  breath, 
Yea,  like  thin  water,  so  he  vanisheth, 
Oh,  spare  him  therefore,  for  thy  gracious  name, 
And  be  not  too  severe  upon  his  shame! 

Almighty!  what  is  man? 

A  faded  leaf! 

If  thou  dost  weigh  him  in  the  balance — lo! 
He  disappears — a  breath  that  thou  dost  blow. 

His  heart  is  ever  filled 

With  lust  of  lies  unstilled. 

Wilt  bear  in  mind  his  crime 

Unto  all  time? 
He  fades  away  like  clouds  sun-kissed, 

Dissolves  like  mist. 

Then  spare  him!   let  him  love  and  mercy  win, 
According  to  thy  grace,  and  not  according  to  his  sin! 

TO    A     DETRACTOR. 

The  Autumn  promised,  and   he  keeps 

His  word  unto  the  meadow-rose. 

The  pure,  bright  ligntnings  herald  Spring, 

Serene  and  glad  the  fresh  earth  shows. 

The  rain  has  quenched  her  children's  thirst, 

Her  cheeks,  but  now  so  cold  and  dry, 

Are  soft  and  fair,  a  laughing  face; 

With  clouds  of  purple  shines  the  sky, 

Though  filled  with  light,  yet  veiled  with  haze. 

Hark!   hark!  the  turtle's  mocking  note 

Outsings  the  valley-pigeon's  lays. 

Her  wings  are  gemmed,  and  from  her  throat, 

When  the  clear  sun  gleams  back  again, 

It  seems  to  me  as  though  she  wore 

About  her  neck  a  jeweled  chain. 

Say,  wilt  thou  darken  such  a  light, 

Wilt  drag  the  clouds  from  heaven's  height? 

Although  thy  heart  with  anger  swell, 

Yet  firm  as  marble,  mine  doth  dwell. 

Therein  no  fear  thy  wrath  begets. 

It  is  not  shaken  by  thy  threats 

Yea,  hurl  thy  darts,  thy  weapons  wield, 

The  strength  of  youth  is  still  my  shield. 

My  winged  steed  toward  the  heights  doth  bound, 

The  dust  whirls  upward  from  the  ground; 

My  song  is  scanty,  dost  thou  deem 

Thine  eloquence  a  mighty  stream? 

Only  the  blameless  offering, 


71 

Not  the  profusion  man  may  bring, 
Prevaileth  with  our  Lord  and  King. 
The  long  days  out  of  minutes  grow, 
And  out  of  months  the  years  arise, 
Wilt  thou  be  master  of  the  wise, 
Then  learn  the  hidden  stream  to  know, 
That  from  the  inmost  heart  doth  flow. 

FRAGMENT. 

My  friend  spoke  with  insinuating  tongue: 

"  Drink  wine,  and  thy  flesh  shall  be  made  whole. 
Look  how  it  hisses  in  the  leathern  bottle  like  a 
captured  serpent." 

Oh  fool!  can  the  sun  be  forged  into  a  cask  stopped 
with  earthly  bungs.  I  know  not  that  the  power 
of  wine  has  ever  overmastered  my  sorrows;  for 
these  mighty  giants  I  have  found  as  yet  no  resting- 
place. 

STANZAS. 

"  With  tears  thy  grief  thou  dost  bemoan, 
Tears  that  would  melt  the  hardest  stone, 
Oh,  wherefore  sing'st  thou  not  the  vine? 
Why  chant'st  thou  not  the  praise  of  wine? 
It  chases  pain  with  cunning  art, 
The  craven  slinks  from  out  thy  heart." 

But  I:    Poor  fools  the  wine  may  cheat, 
Lull  them  with  lying  visions  sweet. 
Upon  th-e  wings  of  storm  may  bear 
The  heavy  burden  of  their  care. 
The  father's  heart  may  harden  so, 
He  feeleth  not  his  own  child's  woe. 

No  ocean  is  the  cup,  no  sea. 
To  drown  my  broad,   deep  misery. 
It  grows  so  rank,  you  cut  it  all, 
The  aftermath  springs  just  as  tall. 
My  heart  and  flesh  are  worn  away, 
Mine  eyes  are  darkened  from  the  day. 

The  lovely  morning-red  behold 
Wave  to  the  breeze  her  flag  of  gold. 
The  hosts  of  stars  above  the  world, 
Like  banners  vanishing  are  furled. 
The  dew  shines  bright;  I  bide  forlorn, 
And  shudder  with  the  chill  of  morn. 


72 

WINE    AND    GRIEF. 

With  heavy  groans  did  I  approach  my  friends, 

Heavy  as  though  the  mountains  I  would  move. 

The  flagon  they  were  murdering;  they  poured 

Into  the  cup,  wild-eyed,  the  grape's  red  blood. 

No,  they  killed  not,  they  breathed  new  life  therein. 

Then,  too,  in  fiery  rapture,  burned  my  veins, 

But  soon  the  fumes  had  fled.     In  vain,   in  vain! 

Ye  cannot  fill  the  breach  of  the  rent  heart. 

Ye  crave  a  sensuous  joy;  ye  strive  in  vain 

To  cheat  with  flames  of  passion,  my  despair. 

So  when  the  sinking  sun  draws  near  to  night, 

The  sky's  bright  cheeks  fade  'neath  those  tresses  black. 

Ye  laugh — but  silently  the  soul  \veeps  on; 

Ye  cannot  stifle  her  sincere  lament. 

DEFIANCE. 

"  Conquer  the   gloomy   night   of  thy  sorrow,    for    the 

morning  greets  thee  with  laughter. 
Rise  and  clothe  thyself  with  noble  pride 
Break  loose  from  the  tyranny  of  grief, 
Thou  standest  alone  among  men, 
Thy  song  is  like  a  pearl  in  beauty." 

So  spake  my  friend.     Tis  well  ! 

The  billows  of  the  stormy  sea  which  overwhelmed  my 

•    soul, — 

These  I  subdue  ;   I  quake  not 
Before  the  bow  and  arrow  of  destiny. 
I  endured  with  patience  when  he  deceitfully  lied  to  me 
With  his  treacherous  smile. 

Yea,  boldly  I  defy  Fate, 

I  cringe  not  to  envious  Fortune. 

I  mock  the  towering  floods. 

My  brave  heart  does  not  shrink — 

This  heart  of  mine,  that,  albeit  young  in  years, 

Is  none  the  less  rich  in  deep,  keen-eyed  experience. 

A    DEGENERATE    AGE. 

Where  is  the  man  who  has  been  tried  and  found  strong 

and  sound  ? 

Where  is  the  friend  of  reason  and  of  knowledge? 
I  see  only  sceptics  and  weaklings. 
I  see  only  prisoners  in  the  durance  of  the  senses. 
And  every  fool  and  every  spendthrift 
Thinks  himself  as  great  a  master  as  Aristotle. 


73 

Think'st  thou  that  they  have  written  poems  ? 

Call'st  thou  that  a  Song  ? 

I  call  it  the  cackling  of  ravens. 

The  zeal  of  the  prophet  must  free  poesy 

From  the  embrace  of  wanton  youths. 

My  song  I  have  inscribed  on  the  forehead  of  Time, 

They  kndw  and  hate  it — for  it  is  lofty. 

II. 
ABUL  HASSAN  JUDAH  BEN  HA-LEVI. 

(BORN  BETWEEN  1080-90.) 
LOVE-SONG. 

"  See'st  thou  o'er  my  shoulders  falling, 
Snake-like  ringlets  waving  free  ? 

Have  no  fear,  for  they  are  twisted 
To  allure  thee  unto  me." 

Thus  she  spake,  the  gentle  dove, 
Listen  to  thy  plighted  love  :  — 

"Ah,  how  long  I  wait,  until 
Sweetheart  cometh  back  (she  said) 

Laying  his  caressing  hand 

Underneath  my  burning  head." 

SEPARATION. 

And  so  we  twain  must  part!     Oh  linger  yet, 
Let  me  still  feed  my  glance  upon  thine  eyes. 

Forget  not,  love,  the  days  of  our  delight, 
And  I  our  nights  of  bliss  shall  ever  prize. 

In  dreams  thy  shadowy  image  I  shall  see, 
Oh  even  in  my  dream  be  kind  to  me  ! 

Though  I  were  dead,  I  none  the  less  would  hear 
Thy  step,  thy  garment  rustling  on  the  sand. 

And  if  thou  waft  me  greetings  from  the  grave, 
I  shall  drink  deep  the  breath  of  that  cold  land. 

Take  thou  my  days,  command  this  life  of  mine, 
If  it  can  lengthen  out  the  space  of  thine. 

No  voice  I  hear  from  lips  death-pale  and  chill, 
Yet  deep  within  my  heart  it  echoes  still. 

My  frame  remains — my  soul  to  thee  yearns  forth. 
A  shadow  I  must  tarry  still  on  earth. 

Back  to  the  body  dwelling  here  in  pain, 

Return,  my  soul,  make  haste  and  come  again  I 


74 
LONGING   FOR    JERUSALEM. 

Oh,  city  of  the  world,  with  sacred  splendor  blest, 
My  spirit  yearns  to  thee  from  out  the  far-off  West, 
A.  stream  of  love  wells  forth  when  I  recall  thy  day, 
Now  is  thy  temple  waste,  thy  glory  passed  away. 
Had  I  an  eagle's  wings,  straight  would  I  fly  to  thee, 
Moisten  thy  holy  dust  with  wet  cheeks  streaming  free. 
Oh,  how  I  long  ior  thee  !   albeit  thy  King  has  gone, 
Albeit  where  balm  once  flowed,  the  serpent  dwells  alone. 
Could  I  but  kiss  thy  dust,  so  would  I  fain  expire, 
As  sweet  as  honey  then,  my  passion,  my  desire  ! 

ON   THE    VOYAGE   TO   JERUSALEM. 
I. 

My  two-score  years  and  ten  are  over, 

Never  again  shall  youth  be  mine. 
The  years  are  ready-winged  for  flying, 

What  crav'st  thou  still  of  feast  and  wine? 
Wilt  thou  still  court  man's  acclamation, 

Forgetting  what  the  Lord  hath  said  i 
And  forfeiting  thy  weal  eternal, 

By  thine  own  guilty  heart  misled  ? 
Shalt  thou  have  never  done  with  folly, 

Still  fresh  and  new  must  it  arise  ? 
Oh  heed  it  not,  heed  not  the  senses, 

But  follow  God,  be  meek  and  wise; 
Yea,  profit  by  thy  days  remaining, 

They  hurry  swiftly  to  the  goal. 
Be  zealous  in  the  Lord's  high  service, 

And  banish  falsehood  from  thy  soul. 
Use  all  thy  strength,  use  all  thy  fervor, 

Defy  thine  own  desires,  awaken  ! 
Be  not  afraid  when  seas  are  foaming, 

And  earth  to  her  foundations  shaken. 
Benumbed  the  hand  then  of  the  sailor, 

The  captain's  skill  and  power  are  lamed. 
Gaily  they  sailed  with  colors  flying, 

And  now  turn  home  again  ashamed. 
The  ocean  is  our  only  refuge, 

The  sandbank  is  our  only  goal, 
The  masts  are  swaying  as  with  terror, 

And  quivering  does  the  vessel  roll. 
The  mad  wind  frolics  with  the  billows, 

Now  smooths  them  low,  now  lashes  high. 
Now  they  are  storming  up  like  lions, 

And  now  like  serpents  sleek  they  lie; 


75 

And  wave  on  wave  is  ever  pressing, 

They  hiss,  they  whisper,  soft  of  tone! 
Alack  !  was  that  the  vessel  splitting  ? 

Are  sail  and  mast  and  rudder  gone? 
Here,  screams  of  fright,  there,  silent  weeping, 

The  bravest  feels  his  courage  fail. 
What  stead  our  prudence  or  our  wisdo  m? 

The  soul  itself  can  naught  avail. 
And  each  one  to  his  God  is  crying, 

Soar  up,  my  soul,  to  Him  aspire, 
Who  wrought  a  miracle  for  Jordan, 

Extol  Him,  oh  angelic  choir  ! 
Remember  Him  who  stays  the  tempest, 

The  stormy  billows  doth  control, 
Who  quickeneth  the  lifeless  body, 

And  fills  the  empty  frame  with  soul. 
Behold  !  once  more  appears  a  wonder, 

The  angry  waves  erst  raging  wild, 
Like  quiet  flocks  of  sheep  reposing, 

So  soft,  so  still,  so  gently  mild. 
The  sun  descends,  and  high  in  heaven, 

The  golden-circled  moon  doth  stand. 
Within  the  sea  the  stars  are  straying, 

Like  wanderers  in  an  unknown  land. 
The  lights  celestial  in  the  waters 

Are  flaming  clearly  as  above, 
As  though  the  very  heavens  descended, 

To  seal  a  covenant  of  love. 
Perchance  both  sea  and  sky,  twin  oceans, 

From  the  same  source  of  grace  are  sprung. 
'Twixt  these  my  heart,  a  third  sea,  surges, 

With  songs  resounding,  clearly  sung. 

II. 

A  watery  waste  the  sinful  world  has  grown, 
With  no  dry  spot  whereon  the  eye  can  rest, 
No  man,  no  beast,  no  bird  to  gaze  upon, 
Can  all  be  dead,  with  silent  sleep  possessed  ? 
Oh,  how  I  long  the  hills  and  vales  to  see, 
To  find  myself  on  barren  steppes  were  bliss. 
1  peer  about,  but  nothing  greeteth  me, 
Naught  save  the  ship,  the  clouds,  the  waves'  abyss, 
The  crocodile  which  rushes  from  the  deeps; 
The  flood  foams  gray;  the  whirling  waters  reel, 
Now  like  its  prey  whereon  at  last  it  sweeps, 
The  ocean  swallows  up  the  vessel's  keel. 
The  billows  rage — exult,  oh  soul  of  mine, 
Soon  shalt  thou  enter  the  Lord's  sacred  shrine  ! 


76 
III. 

TO   THE    WEST   WIND. 

Oh  West,  how  fragrant  breathes  thy  gentle  air, 
Spikenard  and  aloes  on  thy  pinions  glide. 
Thou  blow'st  from  spicy  chambers,  not  from  there 
Where  angry  winds  and  tempests  fierce  abide. 
As  on  a  bird's  wings  thou  dost  waft  me  home, 
Sweet  as  a  bundle  of  rich  myrrh  to  me. 
And  after  thee  yearn  all  the  throngs  that  roam 
And  furrow  with  light  keel  the  rolling  sea. 
Desert  her  not — our  ship — bide  with  her  oft, 
When  the  day  sinks  and  in  the  morning  light. 
Smooth  thou  the  deeps  and  make  the  billows  soft, 
Nor  rest  save  at  our  goal,  the  sacred  height. 
Chide  thou  the  East  that  chafes  the  raging  flood, 
And  swells  the  towering  surges  wild  and  rude. 
What  can  I  do,  the  elements'  poor  slave  ? 
Now  do  they  hold  me  fast,  now  leave  me  free  ; 
Cling  to  the  Lord,  my  soul,  for  He  will  save, 
Who  caused  the  mountains  and  the  winds  to  be. 

III. 

MOSES   BEN    ESRA. 
(ABOUT    1100.) 

EXTRACTS    FROM   THE   BOOK   OF   TARSHISH,    OR 
"NECKLACE    OF   PEARLS." 

I. 

The  shadow  of  the  houses  leave  behind, 
In  the  cool  boscage  of  the  grove  reclined 
The  wine  of  friendship  from  love's  goblet  drink, 
And  entertain  with  cheerful  speech  the  mind. 

Drink,  friend  !  behold,  the  dreary  winter's  gone, 
The  mantle  of  old  age  has  time  withdrawn. 
The  sunbeam  glitters  in  the  morning  dew, 
O'er  hill  and  vale  youth's  bloom  is  surging  on. 

Cup-bearer  !  quench  with  snow  the  goblet's  fire, 
Even  as  the  wise  man  cools  and  stills  his  ire. 
Look,  when  the  jar  is  drained,  upon  the  brim 
The  light  foam  melteth  with  the  heart's  desire. 

Cup-bearer  !  bring  anear  the  silver  bowl, 
And  with  the  glowing  gold  fulfil  the  whole, 
Unto  the  weak  new  vigor  it  imparts, 
And  without  lance  subdues  the  hero's  soul. 


7? 

My  love  sways,  dancing,  like  the  myrtle-tree, 
The  masses  of  her  curls  disheveled,  see  !    ' 
She  kills  trie  with  her  darts,  intoxicates 
My  burning  blood,  and  will  not  set  me  free. 

Within  the  aromatic  garden  come. 

And  slowly  in  its  shadows  let  us  roam; 

The  foliage  be  the  turban  for  our  brows, 

And  the  green  branches  o'er  our  heads  a  dome. 

All  pain  thou  with  the  goblet  shalt  assuage, 
The  wine-cup  heals  the  sharpest  pangs  that  rage, 
Let  others  crave  inheritance  of  wealth, 
Joy  be  our  portion  and  our  heritage. 

Drink  in  the  garden,  friend,  anigh  the  rose, 
Richer  than  spice's  breath  the  soft  air  blows. 
If  it  should  cease  a  little  traitor  then, 
A  zephyr  light  its  secret  would  disclose. 

II. 

Thou  who  art  clothed  in  silk,  who  drawest  on 
Proudly  thy  raiment  of  fine  linen  spun, 
Bethink  thee  of  the  day  when  thou  alone 
Shalt  dwell  at  last  beneath  the  marble  stone. 

Anigh  the  nests  of  adders  thine  abode, 
With  the  earth-crawling  serpent  and  the  toad. 
Trust  in  the  Lord,  He  will  sustain  thee  there, 
And  without  fear  thy  soul  shall  rest  with  God. 

If  the  world  flatter  thee  with  soft-voiced  art, 
Know  '  tis  a  cunning  witch  who  charms  thy  heart, 
Whose  habit  is  to  wed  man's  soul  with  grief, 
And  those  who  are  close-bound  in  love  to  part. 

He  who  bestows  his  wealth  upon  the  poor, 
Has  only  lent  it  to  the  Lord,  be  sure — 
Of  what  avail  to  clasp  it  with  clenched  hand  ? 
It  goes  not  with  us  to  the  grave  obscure. 

The  voice  of  those  who  dwell  within  the  tomb, 
Who  in  corruption's  house  have  made  their  home  ; 
"  Oh  ye  who  wander  o'er  us  still  to-day, 
When  will  ye  come  to  share  with  us  the  gloom  ?" 

How  can'st  thou  ever  of  the  world  complain, 
And  murmuring,  burden  it  with  all  thy  pain  ? 
Silence  !  thou  art  a  traveler  at  an  inn, 
A  guest,  who  may  but  over  night  remain. 


78 

Be  thou  not  wroth  against  the  proud,  but  show 
How  he  who  yesterday  great  joy  did  know, 
To-day  is  begging  for  his  very  bread, 
And  painfully  upon  a  crutch  must  go. 

How  foolish  they  whose  faith  is  fixed  upon 
The  treasures  of  their  worldly  wealth  alone, 
Far  wiser  were  it  to  obey  the  Lord, 
And  only  say,  "  the  will  of  God  be  done  !  " 

Has  Fortune  smiled  on  thee  ?  Oh  do  not  trust 
Her  reckless  joy,  she  still  deceives  and  must. 
Perpetual  snares  she  spreads  about  thy  feet, 
Thou  shalt  not  rest  till  thou  art  mixed  with  dust. 

Man  is  a  weaver  on  the  earth,  'tis  said, 

Who  veaves  and  weaves — his  own  days  are  the  thread, 

And  when  the  length  allotted  he  hath  spun, 

All  life  is  over  and  all  hope  is  dead. 

IN    THE    NIGHT. 

Unto  the  house  of  prayer  my  spirit  yearns, 
Unto  the  sources  of  her  being  turns, 
To  where  the  sacred  light  of  heaven  burns, 
She  struggles  thitherward  by  day  and  night. 

The  splendor  of  God's  glory  blinds  her  eyes, 
Up  without  wings  she  soareth  to  the  skies, 
With  silent  aspiration  seeks  to  rise, 
In  dusky  evening  and  in  darksome  night. 

To  her  the  wonders  of  God's  works  appear, 
She  longs  with  fervor  Him  to  draw  anear, 
The  tidings  of  His  glory  reach  her  ear, 
From  morn  to  even,  and  from  night  to  night. 

The  banner  of  thy  grace  did  o'er  me  rest, 
Yet  was  thy  worship  banished  from  my  breast. 
Almighty,  thou  didst  seek  me  out  and  test 
To  try  and  to  instruct  me  in  the  night. 

I  dare  not  idly  on  my  pillow  lie, 
With  winged  feet  to  the  shrine  I  fain  would  fly, 
When  chained  by  leaden  slumbers  heavily, 
Men  rest  in  imaged  shadows,  dreams  of  night. 

Infatuate  I  trifled  youth  away, 

In  nothingness  dreamed   through  my  manhood's  day. 

Therefore  my  streaming  tears  I  may  not  stay, 

They  are  my  meat  and  drink  by  day  and  night. 


79 

In  flesh  imprisoned  is  the  son  of  light, 
This  life  is  but  a  bridge  when  seen  aright. 
Rise  in  the  silent  hour  and  pray  with  might, 
Awake  and  call  upon  thy  God  by  night ! 

Hasten  to  cleanse  thyself  of  sin,  arise! 
Follow  Truth's  path  that  leads  unto  the  skies, 
As  swift  as  yesterday  existence  flies, 
Brief  even  as  a  watch  within  the  night. 

Man  enters  life  for  trouble ;    all  he  has, 
And  all  that  he  beholds,  is  pain,  alas  ! 
Like  to  a  flower  does  he  bloom  arid  pass, 
He  fadeth  like  a  vision  of  the  night. 

The  surging  floods  of  life  around  him  roar, 
Death  feeds  upon  him,  pity  is  no  more, 
To  others  all  his  riches  he  gives  o'er, 
And  dieth  in  the  middle  hour  of  night. 

Crushed  by  the  burden  of  my  sins  I  pray, 
Oh,  wherefore  shunned  I  not  the  evil  way  ? 
Deep  are  my  sighs,  I  weep  the  livelong  day, 
And  wet  my  couch  with  tears  night  after  night. 

My  spirit  stirs,  my  streaming  tears  still  run, 
Like  to  the  wild  birds'  notes  my  sorrows,'  tone, 
In  the  hushed  silence  loud  resounds  my  groan, 
My  soul  arises  moaning  in  the  night. 

Within  her  narrow  cell  oppressed  with  dread, 
Bare  of  adornment  and  with  grief-bowed  head 
Lamenting,  many  a  tear  her  sad  eyes  shed, 
She  weeps  with  anguish  in  the  gloomy  night. 

For  tears  my  burden  seem  to  lighten  best, 
Could  I  but  weep  my  heart's  blood,  I  might  rest. 
My  spirit  bows  with  mighty  grief  oppressed, 
I  utter  forth  my  prayer  within  the  night. 

Youth's  charm  has  like  a  fleeting  shadow  gone, 
With  eagle  wings  the  hours  of  life  have  flown. 
Alas  !  the  time  when  pleasure  I  have  known, 
I  may  not  now  recall  by  day  or  night. 

The  haughty  scorn  pursues  me  of  my  foe, 
Evil  his  thought,  yet  soft  his  speech  and  low. 
Forget  it  not,    but  bear  his  purpose  so 
Forever  in  thy  mind  by  day  and  night. 


80 

Observe  a  pious  fast,  be  whole  again, 
Hasten  to  purge  thy  heart  of  every  stain. 
No  more  from  prayer  and  penitence  refrain, 
But  turn  unto  thy  God  by  day  and  night. 

He  speaks  :  "  My  son,  yea,  I  will  send  thee  aid, 
Bend  thou  thy  steps  to  me,  be  not  afraid. 
No  nearer  friend  than  I  am,  hast  thou  made, 
Possess  thy  soul  in  patience  one  more  night." 

FROM   THE    "DIVAN." 

My  thoughts  impelled  me  to  the  resting-place 
Where  sleep  my  parents,  many  a  friend  and  brother. 
I  asked  them  (no  One  heard  and  none  replied): 
"  Do  ye  forsake  me,  too,  oh  father,  mother  ?  " 
Then  from  the  grave,  without  a  tongue,  these  cried, 
And  showed  my  own  place  waiting  by  their  side 

LOVE   SONG    OF    ALCHARISI. 
I. 

The  long-closed  door,  oh  open  it  again,  send  me  back 

once  more  my  fawn  that  had  fled. 
Un  the  day  of  our  reunion,  thou  shall  rest  by  my  side, 

there  wilt  thou  shed  over  me  the  streams  of  thy 

delicious  perfume. 
Oh  beautiful  bride,  what  is  the  form  of  thy  friend,  that 

thou  say  to  me,  Release  him,  send  him  away? 
He  is  the  beautiful-eyed  one  of  ruddy  glorious  aspect — 

that  is  my  friend,  him  do  thou  detain. 

II. 

Hail  to  thee,  Son  of  my  friend,  the  ruddy,  the  bright 

colored  one  !     Hail  to  thee  whose  temples  are  like 

a  pomegranate. 
Hasten  to  the  refuge  of  thy  sister,  and  protect  the  son 

of  Isaiah  against  the  troops  of  the  Ammonites. 
What  art  thou,  O  Beauty,  that   thou  shouldstj  inspire 

love  ?  that  thy  voice  should  ring  like  the  voices  of 

the  bells  upon  the  priestly  garments  ? 
The  hour  wherein  thou  desirest  my  love,  I  shall  hasten 

to  meet  thee.     Softly  will  I  drop  beside  thee  like 

the  dew  upon  Hermon. 


THE    END. 


Songs   of   a   Semite 


O 


AND  OTHER  POEMS, 

-  BY  -- 


AUTHOR  OF  "ADMETUS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS,"  "  ALIDE,"  "TRANSLATIONS 
FROM  HEINE,"  ETC. 


Price,  in  paper     .         .         .         .         86  PAGES,  8vo.  .         .         Twenty-five  cents. 

"        "  Cloth .         .     Fifty  " 

This  volume  contains  "The  Dance  to  Death"  (a  tragedy  in  five  acts),  and  other  poems  which  have 
recently  appeared  in  THE  AMEMCAN  HEBHEW,  as  well  as  several  Judaic  poems  by  this  gifted  author 
which  have  not,  hitherto,  been  presented  in  permanent  form,  and  will  include  a  number  of  Transla 
tions  from  the  mediaeval  Spanish  Hebrew  Poets — Gabirol,  Ha  Levi  and  Ben  Esra;  an  In  Memoriam 
ou  the  death  of  Rev.  J.  J.  Lyons,  The  Banner  of  the  Jew,  in  Exile,  Crowing  of  the  Red  Cock,  The 
Guardian  of  the  Red  Disk,  and  her  latest  poem,  "The  New  Year",  written  for  the  Rosh  Hashanah 
(New  Year)  number  of  THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW. 

The  volume  is  printed  on  fine,  tinted  paper,  from  large,  clear  type. 

As  the  edition  is  limited,   early  application  for  copies  should  be  made. 

Dealers,  to  whom  liberal  discount  will  be  given,  can  be  supplied  through  the  News  Companies  or 
by  the  publishers,  THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW, 

(Telephone  Address:    39th,  243)  498-500  Third  Avenue,  New  York. 

Sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price. 

OIF   THCE 


ADMETUS,  AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

"  We  give  a  hearty  welcome  to  Miss  Lazarus.  '  bly  with  the  spirited  and  musical  expression  of 
Her  book  has  been  a  thorough  surprise.  We  took  :  these  genuine  effusions  of  Emma  Lazarus." — 
it  up  with  the  greatest  diffidence,  especially  when  H>NRY  T.  TUCKFRMAN,  in  The  Boston  Transcript. 


we  saw  that  the  first  poem  was  '  Admetus.'  Ad 
mirers  of  Browning  will,  we  know,  think  we  are 
uttering  something  akin  to  blasphemy,  when  we 
say  that  the  '  Admetus  '  of  Miss  Lazarus  will  in 
some  points  bear  comparison  with  '  Balaustion's 

Adventure' We  cannot  help  saying  that 

we  have  not  for  a  long  time  seen  any  volume  of 
poetry  which  in  so  many  various  ways  gives  such 
promise  as  the  present." — Westminster  Re-view. 

"  The  volume  by  Miss  Lazarus    is  full  of  good 

things The  chief  poems  are  all  good.     She 

is  able  to  produce  vivid  effect  without  display  of 
force.  Her  subtlety  is  marked,  and  she  leaves  no 
traces  of  her  art.  There  is  something — and  nor 
much — wanting  to  complete  her  success  and  place 
her  alongsideof  the  masters." — London  Athenaeum. 

"  '  Admetus  '  is  a  fine  poem.  We  catch  now 
and  then  a  Tennysonian  echo  in  the  verse,  but 
there  are  no  feeble  lines,  and  passages  both  of  de 
scription  and  dialogue  are  full  of  energy.  •  Emma 
Lazarus  is  a  new  name  to  us  in  American  poetry, 
but  '  Admetus  '  U  not  the  work  of  a  '  prentice- 
hand."" — Neiu  York  Evening  Post. 

"  Few  recent  volumes  of  verse  compare  favora- 


"  Miss  Lazarus  must  be  hailed  by  im^a--;al 
literary  criticism  as  a  poet  of  rare  original  power. 
She  has  unconsciously  caught  from  admiring  pe 
rusal  more  perhaps  of  the  style  of  Tennyson's 
'  Arthurian  Idylls  '  in  her  narrative  and  dramatic 
pieces  than  would  seem  fitly  to  attend  the  perfect 
ly  fresh  and  independent  stream  of  her  thought 
The  tone,  the  phrases,  the  turns  of  melody  in  her 
blank  verse  lines  too,  often  remind  us  of  the  Eng 
lish  master  whom  she  follows  in  the  craft  of 
rhythmic  diction.  But  her  conceptions  or  each 
theme,  and  the  whole  compass  of  her  ideas  and 
emotions  differ  essentially  from  those  of  preceding 
or  contemporary  poets.  In  her  treatment  of  the 
story  of  '  Alcestis  '  and  '  Admetus,'  one  of  the  two 
Greek  subjects  among  the  poems  of  this  volume, 
she  is  far  happier  than  Mr.  Browning  in  his  half 
adaption  of  '  f'uripides.'  ....  .The  conflict  be 
tween  Hercules  and  Death,  and  the  return  to  life 
of  Alcestis,  are  represented  with  more  force  as 
well  as  grace  in  this  poem  than  in  that  of  Mr. 
Browning It  will  be  no  surprise  to  us,  af 
ter  the  present  volume,  if  she  hereafter  take  a 
high  place  among  the  best  poets  in  this  age  of  our 
common  English  tongue  "—Illustrated London  News. 


ALIDE;    AN  EPISODE  OF  GOETHE'S  LIFE. 

"  Alide  is  a  sad  story,  but  told  in  a  very  charm-     esses,  is  am:ng  the  best,  and  she    shows  herself  in 


ing  way.  Miss  Lazarus  has  strength,  grace  and 
simplicity  of  style,  anj  treats  with  equal  skill  both 
the  outer  and  inner  life  of  her  characters." — Bos 
ton  j^d-vertiser. 

Miss  Lazarus,  if  not  the  best  of  our  living  poet- 


this  volume,  a  mistress  also  of  prose.  With  these 
claims  to  recognition  as  a  writer,  she  has  also  a 
claim  to  be  recognized  as  a  very  giftfd  student  and 
illustrator  of  the  great  genius  of  the  age." — Phila 
delphia  Bulletin. 


TRANSLATIONS   FROM    HEINE. 


" Let  us  none  the  less  do  justice  to  Miss 

Lazarus.  She  is  terse,  sparing  of  words,  direct, 
has  a  keen  musical  ear,  and  a  good  command  of 
language.  To  have  the  tendemess,  the  pathos, 
the  mystery,  the  despair,  the  pictorial  acuteness, 
the  strength  of  Heine  is  much,  and  these  Miss 
Lazarus  can  fairly  command." — N.  T.  Herald. 

"  Miss  Lazarus'  version  is  a  copy  of  an  artist's 
work  made  hv  an  artist's  hand.  The  translator 


is  in    sympathy   with    the   author's    most    subtle 
thoughts  and  fancies. —  Th  Critic. 

"  ...  The  renderings  from  the  original  are 
remarkably  close,  and  enjoy  the  same  freedom 
from  involution  or  straining  after  effect  that  makes 
most  of  Heine's  works  limpid  and  places  some  of 
it  at  the  very  front  of  German  lite'ature.'1 — Cen 
tury  Maga-zine. 


THE    AMERICAN    HEBREW, 

-{-PUBLISHED  EVERY  FKIDAY.+- 
498-SOO   Third    Avenue,    N.  Y. 

Terms,  $3.OO  per  Annum.  |  Sample  Copies,  Free. 


THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW 

Is   edited    by  a  Board    of   Editors   representing  various  phases  of  Judaism, 
and    is    therefore    an    independent    and    impartial    Journal. 

1   THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW 

Has  an  abler  staff  of  writers  than  any  other  American   Jewish   journal. 

THE  AMERICAN   HEBREW 

Is  the  leading  American  Jewish  journal,  and  has  come  to    be    considered 
as  such  by  its  tone,  its  fairness,  and  the  ability  with  which  it  is  conducted. 

Address, 

THE  AMERICAN    HEBREW, 
Telephone  Address  :—39tli,  243.  v      498-500  Third  Avenue. 


THE  ANCIENT  RABBI  AND  THE 


BY    HON.    MORITZ  ELLINGER. 


This  paper  was  acknowledged  to  be  the  best  article  read  at  the  last 
meeting  of  the  "  Rabbinical  Literary  Association  ''.  It  was  published  in  the  col 
umns  of  THE  AMERICAN  HEBREW,  and  the  interest  manifested  in  it  led  10  its 
republication  in  convenient  form. 

24     PP  ;     PRICE,     l^     CENTS. 
Liberal   Discount  to  the  Trade. 

y^~  Sent  Postpaid  on  receipt  of  Pric?.  "3Bf, 

THE    AMERICAN   HEBREVr, 
Telephone  Address: — sgth,   243.  498-500  Third  Avenue. 


13  70  38 


